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POPULAR 

ENGLISH SPECIMENS 

OF THE 

GREEK DRAMATIC POETS; 

WITH 

INTRODUCTORY ESSAYS, 

AND 

EXPLANATORY NOTES. 



^SCHYLUS. 




LONDON : 



JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. 

MDCCCXXXI. 



1 






" THENCE WHAT THE LOFTY, GRAVE TRAGEDIANS TAUGHT 
IN CHORUS OR IAMBIC, TEACHERS BEST 
OF MORAL PRUDENCE, WITH DELIGHT RECEIVED 
IN BRIEF, SENTENTIOUS PRECEPTS, WHTLE THEY TREAT 
OF FATE, AND CHANCE AND CHANGE IN HUMAN LIFE; 
HIGH ACTIONS AND HIGH PASSIONS BEST DESCRIBING." 

PARADISE REGAINED. 



G. Woodfall, 
Angel Court, skinner Street. 






CONTENTS. 



Introduction. 
On the Nature and Origin of Poetry, and the distinguishing 
Characteristics of Greek Tragedy— Design of the present 
Work page 1 

Chapter I. 
Of the Rise and Progress of Greek Tragedy to the time of 
Phrynichus 13 

Chapter II. 
Of the Life and Works of iEschylus, his Improvements in Greek 
Tragedy, and the Character of his Style 19 

Chapter III. 
Of the Dramatic Festivals at Athens 25 

Chapter IV. 
Of the Greek Theatre 30 

Chapter V. 
On Aristotle's Treatise of Poetics 44 

JEschylus. 

The Agamemnon , 51 

The Choephor^e 109 

The Eumenides 1 45 

The Seven Chiefs against Thebes ( ......... . 1 75 



IV CONTENTS. 

The Prometheus Chained , . page 205 

The Persians 233 

The Suppliants 265 



LIST OF PLATES. 

Page 
I. Coryphaeus of the chorus saluting Agamemnon on his 

return triumphant from Troy. (Frontispiece.) See 78 

II. Chorus of Argive Senators lamenting orer Agamem- 

non, murdered by Clytemnestra .... 103 

III. Orestes exulting over the dead bodies of Clytemnestra 

and iEgisthus 142 

IV. Orestes haunted by the Furies for the murder of his 

mother ........ 144? 

V. The ghost of Clytemnestra ; and the Furies awaking 

in the Temple of Apollo . . . . .147 

VI. The Furies driving a Criminal down to Tartarus . 155 

VII. Furies appeased by Minerva and reconciled to Orestes 

and Apollo 173 

VIII. The Seven Chiefs invoking Mars to witness their 

common oath and bond against Thebes . .178 

IX. The brothers, Eteocles and Polynices, slain by each 

other's hands, and borne from the field of battle, 
followed by their sisters ..... 202 

X. Prometheus chained to Caucasus, and the Oceanides 

cowering from the storm 231 

XI. Morning 245 

XII. The Persians routed at the Battle of Sdlamis . . 248 

XIII. The Danaides supplicating the Gods of Greece . 270 



INTRODUCTION. 



On the Nature and Origin of Poetry, and the distinguishing 
Characteristics of Greek Tragedy — Design of the present 
Work. 

Milton, in his letter to Master Hartlib, ranks it 
among the last literary attainments and delights of 
a complete and generous education, to master " the 
Attic tragedies of stateliest and most regal argu- 
ment," which, with a due proficiency in that art 
which Aristotle and Horace in their Poetics teach, 
and after them Italian poets and commentators both 
declare and practise, may serve to shew us " what 
religious, what glorious and magnificent use might 
be made of poetry, both in divine and human 
things." Yet it is certain, that to a vast majority 
of readers, those poets of whom Milton speaks, 

" Who were the fountains and first springs of wisdom," 

are but as " a spring shut up, a fountain sealed " ; 
and even of those who do attain to some acquaint- 
ance with the language in which they wrote, not a 
few peruse them with feelings of apathy, or only as 
an irksome task. Doubtless the difficulty of the 
language, which is indeed great, is one principal 
reason why the Greek drama is so little known or 
relished : an intuitive perception both of the pe-^ 



INTRODUCTION. 



culiar force of each particular word, and of the fe- 
licitous union of the whole in connexion, is gene- 
rally indispensable to the enjoyment of the subtle 
and delicate beauty of poetry. Hence the mere stu- 
dent is seldom able, and not always disposed, to sur- 
render himself to his author, so as to co-operate with 
him in producing on his own mind the requisite illu- 
sion. Without this, poetry is but a barren study, for 
its appeals are always made immediately to the imagi- 
nation, though in the last resort it must submit to 
be tried by the severer rules of reason ; that is, it 
must be natural and consistent with itself, which is 
all that is required or meant by " truth " in poetry. 
It has been long established as a sound critical ca- 
non, (notwithstanding the eloquent dissent of Ho- 
race, who yet acknowledges its truth in the case of 
Greece,) that the most ancient poets of every coun- 
try are commonly the best. It is observed, that 
the earliest authors are masters of nature, while 
later writers excel only in art. The first surpass in 
vigour and originality of invention, their successors 
in refinement, in elegance, and in taste. Homer 
and Virgil, Dante and Tasso, Chaucer and Pope, 
afford pregnant examples. The reason seems to 
be, that as the gift of poetry is a natural endow- 
ment, and in its highest sense, at least, not an ob- 
ject of art or acquisition, it cannot be extended and 
improved by successive degrees, like pure science 
or ordinary knowledge. It must be conversant 
with new ideas, and these are more likely to be nu- 
merous and beautiful in the infancy of society, than 
when men's understandings are informed and their 
reasoning powers matured. Poetry, then, regard- 
ed as simply ideal, is the antithesis to fact, and as 



INTRODUCTION. 6 

such we can easily apprehend why the ideas of 
poetry should shoot most freely in the earlier stages 
of society ; it is perhaps more difficult to account 
for their immediate accommodation to that internal 
law of order and beauty which constitutes verse. 

Lucretius ascribes the origin of poetry, (by which 
he means verse,) to man's observation of the 
pleasing effects of the song of birds. Man's in- 
stinctive love of imitation would dispose him to 
mimic the sounds which pleased him in birds, and 
though failing to produce similar sounds with his 
voice or rustic pipe, or by repeated strokes on hol- 
low bodies, he would yet observe the pleasing ef- 
fects of the recurrence of corresponding tones at 
stated intervals, and this perception might suggest 
the construction of various rude instruments, and 
at length give birth to some simple sort of music. 
The adaptation of words to this measured sound, 
would be an easy, obvious improvement, and spon- 
taneous effusions of passion, whether excited by 
mirth or love, by war or by enthusiasm, would 
speedily be " married to immortal verse," and 
poetry be complete. At all events we know that 
poetry and music were at first uniformly united 
together ; it was only after the lapse of ages and 
the progress of art that they came to be disjoined. 
Mr. Mitford observes, that even in our own lan- 
guage the word song is still a generic name for all 
metrical composition. 

Poetry, as well as music and dancing, is the de- 
light of untutored minds ; it is only philosophy 
that requires civilization. Those subjects which 
were most likely to influence rude, uneducated men 
to attempt the labour of composition, are of that 

B 2 



4 INTRODUCTION. 

spirit-stirring kind (as war and conquest, or the 
worship of the gods) which would naturally lead 
them on to indulge exaggeration and their love of the 
marvellous, while the very poverty of their lan- 
guage would compel them to clothe such thoughts 
in metaphor and imagery, and thus they would un- 
consciously be moulded both to the ideas and the 
diction, which, quickened by the breath of genius, 
constitute poetry. Accordingly, we find the first lite- 
rary records of every country " submitting the shows 
of things," as Lord Bacon observes, " to the desires of 
the mind," and both partaking of the essence of po- 
etry, which is fiction, and clad in its garb, which is 
verse. Hesiod and Homer afford the first elements 
of Grecian history ; and we learn from Strabo, that 
even her professed historians originally wrote in 
verse, and grew gradually less poetical till the time 
of Herodotus. The annosa volumma vatum of the 
Latins, the Runic songs of the north of Europe, 
the historical ballads of the Arabs and Peruvians, 
and, not to multiply examples, the Anglo-Saxon and 
Irish chronicles of our own ancestors, confirm this 
hypothesis. The facility of remembrance afforded 
by metre, so especially desirable before the use of 
letters, as well as the extreme difficulty of impart- 
ing interest and gracefulness to a prose narrative in 
any rude and uncultivated language *, may be men- 
tioned as affording additional reasons for the facts. 
It is time however to consider the dramatic poetry 
of Greece, as distinguished from the other species 
of that class of composition to which it belongs, 

* " II faut beaucoup plus de finesse et de correction dans une 
langue, pour bien ecrire en prose, que pour bien ecrire en vers." 
Stael de la Litterature, Tom. ii. p. 9. 



INTRODUCTION. O 

Poetry considered in itself, as an intellectual fa- 
culty, an undefinable power of conjuring up novel 
images and exquisite emotions on every topic that 
it touches, must be of the same nature in all ages, 
however it may differ in degree ; but the materials 
of poetry, as of every other mental faculty, must 
vary according to the plenty and variety of ideas 
with which the mind of him who possesses and em- 
ploys the faculty is conversant. Imagination itself, 
however fertile, cannot invent any new simple idea, 
nor form complex ones of any other than those ele- 
mentary perceptions with which it has been pre- 
viously furnished by external objects, or by the ob- 
servation of its own internal operations. Hence we 
shall look in vain among the poets of Pagan anti- 
quity for all that large class of thoughts and feel- 
ings which revelation has made known to man, and 
which have their well-spring in the Christian re- 
ligion. To them moral sentiment, in its best and 
highest sense, was unknown*. Charity, benevo- 
lence, compassion, are no where dwelt upon as 
requisite features of human character, and men who 
had never been taught to believe that the Author 
of this vast and magnificent universe looked down 
with more favour upon lowliness and humility than 
on pomp and greatness, upon long-suffering and 
meekness rather than on daring and heroic achieve- 
ments, were necessarily strangers to all those dear 
and gentle affections which grow up among us, al- 
most unconsciously, from the precepts and the hopes 
of the religion we profess, and which, from habit, if 

* It is well remarked by Paley, that we have no record of the 
existence of an hospital, or any similar institution for the relief 
of such as were poor and in misery, anterior to Christianity. 



6 INTRODUCTION. 

not from piety, we connect with something more en- 
during than our mortal bodies, and superior to the 
accidents of chance and change. 

Bred up, again, as the component member of a 
community, rather than as the branch of a separate 
family, of a community too, where, from the esta- 
blished usages of society, man was comparatively 
every thing, and woman nothing, the feelings of the 
modern hearth were almost as little known to the 
ancient Greek as the feelings of the modern altar. 
Hence those endearing charities, which are evinced 
in the ' thousand decencies ' of social and domestic 
life, and those numberless varieties of feeling, si- 
tuation, and character, which grow out of the equal 
and unrestrained intercourse between the sexes, 
and which form the business and the charm of the 
modern drama, are among the attractions least to 
be looked for or expected in that of the ancients. 

Called into existence by a mighty imagination, 
the conceptions of Greek tragedy are indeed of 
colossal magnitude, but, like the masks of its own 
actors, though embodying all the features of ma- 
jesty and beauty, and finished with scrupulous ac- 
curacy and consummate skill, the touch of pathetic 
nature is too often wanting, and all seems cold, 
studied, and artificial. There is a want of the 
" inner man of the heart ", the simple reality of mere 
ordinary humanity, and a straining after something 
beyond it, in Greek tragedy, which often prevents 
us from being deeply and permanently affected. 
The secret depths of our hearts can rarely be 
stirred by writers who seldom dip very profoundly 
into their own. 

Greek tragedy, in truth, rose, as we shall presently 






INTRODUCTION. 



see, out of the choral ode, and it never wholly lost its 
lyric character. Addressed to a seeing and a listen- 
ing rather than a reading people, it depended for 
its most powerful charm on the combination of 
graceful and majestic gesture, accompanied by me- 
lodious symphonies, with its own exquisite poetry 
in the choral parts, which were essentially undra- 
matic. The very fertility of the Greek dramatic 
poets, so far surpassing the most prolific even of 
our own writers, is an argument (notwithstanding 
the extraordinary facility of expression afforded by 
the rich variety and melody of their language) of 
the extreme simplicity of their fables. Some single 
grand and affecting action, relating to regal persons 
of their mythology or history, and easily brought 
about by the sure operation of an over-ruling ne- 
cessity, usually constitutes all that is really dramatic 
in the piece. In a word, it was simply a fictitious 
and embellished imitation of some great transaction 
already familiar to the minds of the spectators, ad- 
dressed chiefly to the imagination, through the me- 
dium of measured and highly ornamented language. 

The opposition of divine fate to human will, re- 
lieved the author from the difficult task of marking 
and blending all the slight circumstances and the 
delicate shades of character, by which the fine and 
almost imperceptible links of human agency are 
formed and developed in the gradual accomplish- 
ment of real events. Yet these very touches, which 
we require to connect and give an air of probability 
to the details of the action, are usually those which 
also impart interest and individuality to the persons 
of the drama. 

But numerous, as to general readers, must appear 



8 INTRODUCTION. 

the imperfections of Greek dramatic literature, and 
growing out of causes which we have but imper- 
fectly traced, to those who have the power of read- 
ing these noble productions of antiquity in the 
original language, and to those who possess the 
still rarer faculty of being able to abstract them- 
selves from modern usages and feelings, and of 
throwing themselves back into the times from which 
these intellectual banquets were derived, Milton's 
high commendation of its uses and delights will 
seem little, if at all overcharged. Such persons 
find themselves at once thrown back upon a state 
of things, for which modern compositions can fur- 
nish no equivalent. Lofty figures stalk before their 
eyes ; visions of heroic greatness and superhuman 
dignity become familiar to their thoughts ; they 
hold converse with majestic minds, which the storms 
of fate might shake but could not subdue ; and if 
they come out of this intercourse without expe- 
riencing those feverish excitements and gusts of 
passion, by which the modern drama at once de- 
lights and enervates the mind, they feel in them- 
selves that calm repose or chastened emotion, which 
w r ere the legitimate and wiser aims of the ancient 
drama, and of which the one will be found the best 
relief against the cares, as the other will be the 
surest preservative against the pains of life, 

To enlarge the sphere of our sensibility, and to 
augment whilst it regulates the force of that quality, 
ought to be the aim of poetry ; and nowhere has 
this been better effected than in those noble remains 
which antiquity has handed down to us. In 
the ancient works of imagination, there reigns a 
dignified tranquillity which resembles the calm 



INTRODUCTION. 9 

magnificence of a noble statue*, while the glow 
of unnatural fervour and the glitter of fanciful or- 
nament which pervade much of our modern poetry, 
have been compared to the more warm colouring 
of a picture if. It requires a more accurate exami- 
nation, and a more refined and exquisite judgement, 
to appreciate the solemn beauty of sculpture than 
to relish the sprightlier charms of painting, and 
possibly the same analogy may extend to ancient 
and modern fiction ; but as the regulations of so- 
ciety wisely require that a large portion of the time 
and attention devoted to the attainment of a liberal 
education, should be appropriated to the perusal of 
ancient poetry J, it seems very desirable that stu- 

* " The whole appearance of their tragic poems," says Schlegel, 
speaking of the Greek stage, " was beautiful and dignified to a de- 
gree which we cannot easily conceive. We shall do \v T ell always 
to think of them in conjunction with ancient sculpture ; and, per- 
haps, the most faithful representation of them is to consider them 
as living and moving statues of the highest order." There can- 
not be a finer commentary on this noble remark, than the designs 
which have been inserted for the purpose of embellishing this vo- 
lume. When the true feeling and high relish of antiquity are 
concerned, the pen and the graver were never certainly in such 
hands as those of Schlegel and Flaxman. 

f Madame de Stael has completed this illustration very happily, 
by observing that the simple German dramas, such as those of 
Lessing, which contain little more than natural and obvious sen- 
timents, expressed in the dramatic form of dialogue, bear the same 
relation to tragedy, that figures of wax do to statues. Too like 
nature for works of art, and yet but a sorry substitute for nature 
herself. 

| " L'etude des langues est beaucoup plus favorable aux progres 
des facultes dans l'enfance que celle des mathematiques ou des 
sciences physiques. Pascal, ce grand geometre, dont la pensee 
profonde planoit sur les sciences dont il s'occupoit specialement, 
comme sur toutes les autres, a reconnu lui-meme les defauts in- 
separables des esprits formes d'abordpar les mathematiques : cette 
etude dans le premier age n'exerce que le mecanisme de l'intelli- 



10 INTRODUCTION. 

dents should be taught to derive from works of this 
class all the pleasure and advantage they are so well 
capable of affording, and in no way perhaps can this 
be done so easily and effectually, as by storing their 
minds with useful and pleasant information upon 
the subject, and interesting them heartily in it by a 
previous and agreeable acquaintance with its origin 
and nature. They will then probably repair to the 
classic fountains themselves, with a more ardent 
thirst for their purer streams and a keener relish 
for their more elevating draughts. 

To the English reader, for whom this work is 
more immediately designed, the trains of new ideas 
which an acquaintance with the Greek stage will 
open to his thoughts, and the opportunity of thus 
becoming more intimately acquainted with so in- 
teresting a people, by snaring in the intellectual 
part of their most favourite amusement, can hardly 
fail, it is hoped, of amply repaying the time devoted 
to a perusal of some of their choicest productions, 
in the most becoming garb which they admit of being 
presented to him. Above all, 

— " The dread strife 
Of poor humanity's afflicted will, 
Struggling in vain with ruthless destiny !" 

gence ; les enfants que Ton occupe de si bonne heure a calculer, 
perdent toute cette seve de l'imagination, alors si belle et si fe- 
conde, et n'acquierent point a la place une justesse d'esprit tran- 
scendante : car l'arithmetique et l'algebre se bornent a nous ap- 
prendre de mille manieres des propositions toujours identiques. 
Les problemes de la vie sont plus co?npliques ; aucun n'est positif, 
aucun n'est absolu ; il faut deviner, il faut choisir, a l'aide d'aper- 
9us et des suppositions qui n'ont rapport avec la marche infaillible 

du calcul Ce n'est done pas sans raison que 

1'etude des langues anciennes et modernes a ete la base de tous les 
etablissemens d'education qui ont formes les hommes les plus ca- 
pables en Europe." — L'AUemagne par Madame de Stael. Tom. 1. 



INTRODUCTION. 1 1 

of which examples are here set before him, divested 
of all that was thought uncongenial to an English 
taste, may serve to inculcate a higher lesson. Our 
brighter light has shewn us, that to be good or 
truly great, we must substitute for the mere animal 
courage and ostentatious daring of the heroes of an- 
tiquity, the peaceful unobtrusive moral fortitude, 
the fearless mastery over ourselves, of the Christian 
religion ; but if the exhibition of firm mental en- 
durance of the necessary ills of life, impress more 
deeply on us the all-important lesson to reconcile 
ourselves cheerfully to the dispensations of the Di- 
vine will, to bow humbly before the Chastener, and 
to feel that by this willing service w T e attain to per- 
fect freedom, then will the moral teaching of the 
ancient drama be rendered indeed efficacious, in a 
far nobler and more exalted sense than ever was 
or could have been contemplated by those who gave 
it birth. 

As to the translation, the reader may remember 
that the Knight of La Mancha compares every such 
attempt to looking at the wrong side of an Arras 
hanging, where, though the shape and semblance of 
the figures can be traced, their smoothness, fulness 
of contour and brilliancy of colouring are obscured 
by the thread-ends which darken them, or destroyed 
by the stiffness and hardness of the outline. It 
would however be doing less than justice to Mr. 
Potter's English iEschylus, which, with some slight 
occasional alterations, has been made the basis of 
the present volume, were not the Editor to declare 
his conviction, that it is faithful, spirited, and po- 
etical throughout, and in the lyric parts, certainly 
those most trying to a translator, eminently felicitous. 



12 INTRODUCTION. 

It may not be unnecessary to add, that the Editor 
has purposely refrained from loading his pages with 
lists of authorities for the various facts adduced ; 
to the scholar such notices would be superfluous, to 
the English reader tiresome. The nature of the 
undertaking precludes the possibility of its afford- 
ing much original information. Almost the highest 
praise to which it can aspire, is that of judicious 
selection and combination from the wide field of ma- 
terials which lies open to every scholar. It will save 
repetition to make once for all a suitable acknow- 
ledgment of the assistance derived from the works 
of Barthelemy, Schlegel, Tyrwhitt, and Twining. 
To these, and other similar sources, the Editor is 
largely indebted ; there is likewise a work on the 
Greek theatre published some time ago, by Grant, 
Cambridge, containing a vast store of valuable 
classical information loosely heaped together, of 
which the Editor has freely availed himself wherever 
it suggested the propriety of any alteration or ad- 
dition, for his essay was nearly completed before 
the work fell into his hands. Indeed his first im- 
pression on a hasty perusal of it, was, that he had 
taken some pains to little purpose, as this book 
seemed to have anticipated his design, which was 
originally limited to an introduction to the study of 
the Greek drama. On consideration however, it 
appeared to him, that as the Cambridge work was 
purely didactic, and intended only for the use of 
students actually engaged in the perusal of the Greek 
plays, it did not at all clash with a publication of 
the unpretending and more popular character of the 
present. 



POPULAR 

ENGLISH SPECIMENS 

OF 

THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS, 

ETC. 



CHAPTER I. 



Of the Rise and Progress of Greek Tragedy to the time of 
Phrynichus. 

In the reign of Cyrus the Great, King of Persia, 
and of Pisistratus tyrant of Athens, lived Thespis, 
a native, as x\thenaeus and Diogenes Laertius inform 
us, of Icaria, a mountain district of Attica, famous 
for its vines. He was the inventor of a rude kind 
of drama, which he first exhibited about the year 
53G b.c. 

It was customary among the ancient Greeks, to 
meet together annually in their villages, at the close 
of their harvest, or vintage, to thank the gods that 
their corn and wine were increased, as well as to 
enjoy festivity and relaxation after their fatigue, 
according to the intention of our own harvests home. 
Their praises and thanks were offered chiefly to 
Bacchus, as the giver of wine and promoter of mirth. 
In honour of him they instituted at these yearly meet- 
ings, a festival called Ascolia, which was thus ob- 
served : they sacrificed a goat to the god,. (that ani- 



14 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. I. 

mal being deemed the most inveterate enemy of 
the vine,) and having formed a bottle of its skin 
with the fleshy side out, they filled it with wine*, 
oiling the outside, so as to render it as slippery 
as possible ; they then amused themselves with hop- 
ping on it, having placed it loosely on the smooth 
green sward ; and he who first succeeded in keeping 
his footing on the skin, was declared victor in the 
game, and gained it with its contents for his prize. 
Virgil describes the festival in his second Georgic : 

" For this the malefactor goat was laid 
On Bacchus' altar, and his forfeit paid. 
At Athens thus old Comedy began, 
When round the streets the reeling actors ran, 
In country villages and crossing ways 
Contending for the prizes of their plays ; 
And glad with Bacchus, on the grassy soil 
Leapt o'er the skins of goats besmeared with oil." 

DRYDEN. 

To heighten the sport, they smeared their own 
faces with lees of the wine, and mixed up the joyous 
songs in which they " thanked the gods amiss," with 
wanton jests and taunting gibes on one another in 
satirical verse. The hymns in honour of the gods, 
from their peculiar celebration of Bacchus, soon 
came to be called Dithyrambic, in allusion to his 
double birth, first from Semele and afterwards from 
the thigh of Jupiter ~j\ From these Dithyrambics, 

* At this day, Sherry, or the wine of Xerez, is said to owe much 
of its peculiar flavour, to the goat-skin bottles in which it is carried 
over the mountains of Andalusia. 

t Euripides in the Bacchse gives both this story and an expo- 
sition of it by Teiresias : 

When wing'd from heaven the rapid lightnings came, 
The mother an abortive infant bore 



CH. I. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 15 

Tragedy, as we shall presently see, subsequently 
arose. 

The Egyptians had a festival called Phallica, in 
honour of Osiris, which owed its institution to a cir- 
cumstance familiar to the classical reader, but which 
does not admit of explanation here. The procession 
of the Phallus, or emblem of the first generating prin- 
ciple, was introduced into Europe by the inhabitants 
of Attica, and by them made a part of the ritual of 
the Dionysia, or festival in honour of the wine-god, 
who indeed appears to have been identical with the 
Osiris of Egypt. However impure the celebration 
of this rite may have subsequently become, both in 
Greece and Italy, it appears to have been originally 
a religious ceremony, free from any thought of 
lasciviousness. The wooden image was borne by 
men who chanted songs composed for the occasion, 
called phallic strains ; these gradually superseded 
the ludicrous sarcastic verses with which the shep- 
herds were at first accustomed to banter each other, 
and ultimately gave birth to Comedy. 

On the introduction of the Dithyrambic hymns, 
as a regular and stated part of the rustic* Dionysia, 

And died ; o'ercome by that celestial flame. 

But Jove in such distressful state 
Did for his son another womb supply, 
And safe within his fostering thigh 

Concealed him from Saturnia's hate. 
Which Teiresias afterwards thus expounds to Pentheus : 

From the lightning's blaze 

When Jove had snatch M and to Olympus borne 
The tender infant, Juno from the realms 
Of heaven would have expelled him. But Jove framed 
This stratagem to foil her : breaking off 
A portion of the ether which enwraps 
The world, he placed him there, x. t. A. 
* Seep. 25. 



16 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. I. 

the prize of the skin of wine * was transferred from 
dexterity of heel to acuteness of head in the " keen 
encounter of their wits." It was placed at the dis- 
posal of that poet whose verses pleased the assem- 
bly most. The prize of the Phallic song was a cask 
of wine and a basket of figs. 

The first step towards the introduction of dra- 
matic poetry was the formation of the chorus, 
originally consisting of fifty men who danced round 
the altar of Bacchus in a ring, and sang the Dithy- 
rambus. Of the subsequent composition of the Tra- 
gic chorus, as distinguished from this Cyclian choir, 
we shall have occasion to speak at length hereafter. 
The next advance was the adoption of a minor cho- 
rus of persons fantastically dressed up like Satyrs, 
the supposed attendants of Bacchus, who skipped 
about like monkeys, and uttered wild effusions of 
the moment, in honour of the god, or in ridicule of 
each other ; with ludicrous grimaces to give greater 
zest to their jokes. Then came the improvement 
of Thespis, who first delighted the spectators by 
performing the additional part of Bacchus himself, 
or some other god or hero, and conversing with the 
Chorus, or relating some suitable mythological nar- 
rative, with appropriate gesticulation. 

These dramatic interludes or recitations were 
called Episodes, from their introduction between the 
choral songs, and in progress of time displaced 

* Dr. Bentley affirms, on the authority of the Arundelian mar- 
ble, that the goat itself was the prize of Tragedy, whence the 
name, which signifies goat's song, and that the wine, as well as the 
figs, were the peculiar premium for success in Comedy. There is 
a passage in the 13th Olympic ode of Pindar, (line 25 et seq.) 
which seems to intimate that the reward of the Dithyramb at least, 
if not of Tragedy, was raised to the gift of an ox. 



CH. I. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 17 

those odes of the chorus which they were originally 
intended only to relieve and diversify. Besides 
this important addition of an actor and a story, 
Thespis diligently drilled his chorus in all the nice- 
ties of pantomimic gesture, and taking up the new 
profession of an itinerant player, was drawn about 
from village to village, with his trained chorus, in 
the waggon which served him for a stage, and gra- 
tified the inhabitants of the different districts with 
the exhibition of this novel performance at their 
various local festivals. 

Some years after this, the poems of Homer were 
first arranged and introduced to public regard in a 
collective form, by Hippias and Hipparchus, sons of 
Pisistratus. They had not long become an object 
of general attention, when Phrynichus, son of Poly- 
phradmon, invented mournful tragedy ; at least he 
first recited solemn and elevated narratives, when 
he mounted the rostrum, to spout to the audience 
between the choral songs. He was the scholar of 
Thespis, and did not exhibit till a quarter of a cen- 
tury after the appearance of his instructor. It is of 
a play of his, composed, how T ever, twenty years after 
he first came forward, that Herodotus relates the 
remarkable anecdote of the Athenians heavily fining 
an author for affecting them too deeply. " On 
seeing the capture of Miletus represented in a dra- 
matic piece by Phrynichus, the whole audience 
burst into tears. The poet, for thus reminding 
them too forcibly of a domestic calamity, w r as fined 
a thousand drachmae, and the piece was forbidden 
to be repeated." * 

* Herod. Erato, §» 21, 



18 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. I, 

He too is said to have been the first who intro- 
duced a female character as interlocutor with the 
chorus. Thus then, as Aristotle observes, both 
Tragedy and Comedy having arisen in a simple un- 
premeditated manner, the first from the Dithyram- 
bic hymns, the other from those Phallic songs, 
which in many cities long remained in use, each ad- 
vanced gradually towards perfection, by such suc- 
cessive improvements as were most obvious. Until 
the time of Phrynichus, Tragedy appears to have re- 
sembled the Satyric drama, which was ultimately 
brought forward as a distinct species by Pratinas, 
and of which the only specimen now remaining, is 
the Cyclops of Euripides. The quips and cranks 
of the merry Satyrs were so popular with the com- 
mon people, that even in a more refined age, so 
long as the poets contended against each other for 
the prize with a series of plays, a Satyric drama was 
appended to every tragic trilogy *. Indeed there is 
a well known anecdote related by Plutarch, that on 
the first adoption of an episode, with a melancholy 
catastrophe, the people, accustomed only to songs 
and stories relating to Bacchus, exclaimed in dis- 
pleasure, " what has all this to do with Bacchus ? " 
Whence arose the proverb of " That's nothing to 
Bacchus ", applied to whatever was deemed irrele- 
vant, or nothing to the purpose in any matter. 

The crowning improvements, or rather the new in- 
ventions of iEschylus, must be the subject of another 
chapter. 



* The meaning of this expression will be seen at p. 



26. 



CH. II. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 19 



CHAPTER II. 

Of the Life and Works of JEschylus, his Improvements in Greek 
Tragedy, and the Character of his Style. 

iEscHYLtrs, son of Euphorion, was born of an illus- 
trious family in Attica, ten years after the first ex- 
hibition of Thespis, and 525 years before our era. 
The early enthusiasm of his disposition, may be 
conjectured from a circumstance mentioned by Pau- 
sanias as related by the poet himself. When a 
boy, he fell asleep one night in a vineyard, which 
was given him in charge, and Bacchus, appearing 
to him in a vision, commanded him to compose 
Tragedy. Awaking, and wishing to obey the in- 
junction of the god, he made the attempt, and easily 
succeeded. He was an early and ardent admirer of 
Homer, and used modestly to say, in allusion to the 
great benefit he derived from his works to his 
own tragedies, that he had been to a great feast of 
poetry, and had brought away some of the scraps. 
It is supposed that his conviction of the impossibility 
of rivalling Homer in the Epos, was what first in- 
stigated him to strike out the novel and till then 
almost untried path of elevated dramatic poetry. 
So early as the age of twenty-five, he contended 
with Pratinas and Chcerilus for the tragic prize. 
Ten years after this, he fought at Marathon, where 
a band of ten thousand x\thenians, under the com- 
mand of Miltiades, defeated the army of Darius, 
king of Persia, which exceeded twenty times their 
number, and had now advanced, imder Datis and 



20 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. II. 

Artaphernes, within ten miles of Athens. iEschy- 
lus, with his brothers Cynaegeirus and Ameinias, 
were honoured with the highest marks of distinction 
for valour and conduct in the battle. Of Cynae- 
geirus Herodotus relates, that having pursued the 
Persians to their ships, he seized one of the vessels 
by the poop to board it, but his hand was lopped off 
by one of the crew, and he died of his wounds *. 

In the intervals of his military campaigns, which 
were not like the long-protracted struggles of mo- 
dern warfare, iEschylus continued to direct his at- 
tention to poetical composition. In the forty-first 
year of his age, he gained the Tragic prize, b.c 
484, the same year in which Herodotus was born. 
Four years after this he was wounded at the battle 
of Salamis, when the reward of extraordinary valour 
was conferred upon his brother Ameinias, who lost 
an arm in the engagement. Next year he fought 
at Plataea, where of two hundred thousand Asiatics, 
the lowest computed number of the Persian force, 
scarcely three thousand men escaped with life by 
flight. iEschylus was thus well qualified from ac- 
tual observation to sing the paean of the Greeks, 
which, seven years afterwards, he celebrated accord- 
ingly in the drama of the Persians. This was the 
first piece of the trilogy which gained the prize, and 
the only one still extant ; the other two were named 
Phineus and Glaucus. The drama of the Persians 
preserves a faithful record, and presents a living 
picture of the sea-fight of rocky Salamis, to which 
the battle of Plataea was the final and conclusive 
supplement. Greece had no longer aught to fear 

* Herod. Erato. 



CH. II. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 21 

from Eastern invasions. From that time forward, 
the Persian princes never dared to cross the Helles- 
pont with a hostile armament. 

Late in life, iEschylus retired into Sicily, to the 
court of Hiero, king of Syracuse, who in his latter 
days became the munificent patron of learning and 
genius, and whom Pindar has celebrated as victor 
in the Olympic games, where he had gained three 
several crowns. The motives which influenced Ms- 
chylus to depart from Athens are little known. By 
some he is said to have repaired to Sicily on account 
of Sophocles having gained the victory in tragedy, 
by others, because he was surpassed by Simonides 
in an elegy on those who fell in Marathon ; while 
a third part assign a charge of profanation, con- 
tained in an allusion to the Eleusinian mysteries, 
and from which he narrowly escaped with his life, as 
the cause of this voluntary exile. While in Sicily, he 
composed a tragedy entitled iEtna, predicting pros- 
perity to the inhabitants of that city, which had been 
recently founded by Hiero. It is supposed that it 
was on the death of this prince he fixed his resi- 
dence at Gela, on the south-west coast of Sicily, 
where he died. Some think that it was here also 
he composed the Orestean trilogy, which is pre- 
sented to the reader first in the present volume, 
and which gained the prize, b.c 458. 

The singular story of the poet's death, which hap- 
pened b.c 456, in the sixty-ninth year of his age, 
is sufficiently known, whatever may be the opinion 
as to its truth. It had been foretold that he was not 
to die until a house should fall on him. Being, like 
Horace, a bald old man, who loved to sit in the sun, 
he wandered forth one summer's morning into the 



22 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. II. 

fields, and sat him down to meditate and compose. 
He uncovered his head to bathe his temples freely 
in the balmy air, when a towering eagle soared 
with a tortoise in his bill exactly over the spot in 
which the bard sat silent and motionless, enjoying 
the sunshine and the breeze, and the freshness of 
nature. The bird of Jove, mistaking the bald head 
of the old man for a round white stone, let fall his 
prey to break its shell upon that hard substance. 
The tortoise dropped plumb from the zenith, and 
a fractured skull was the unfortunate result to the 
father of Tragedy ; for so the Athenians justly styled 
our poet. 

An elegiac quatrain written by himself, and which 
only records that " there lay iEschylus of Athens, 
son of Euphorion, who died in fertile Gela, and 
whose prowess the long-haired Mede experienced 
on the illustrious field of Marathon," was the epitaph 
engraven on his tomb. 

iEschylus accomplished for the Grecian drama 
what Shakspeare, according to common parlance *, 
did for that of England. Each introduced or- 
der and beauty into the rude and indigested mass 
where chaos reigned before. iEschylus abridged 
the office of the chorus, and by the addition of a 
second actor, established a regular dramatic dia- 
logue, which he made the principal part of the 
play, rendering the odes of the chorus subser- 
vient to the main interest of the action. He it 
was who first brought into use the spacious de- 
corated theatre with its fixed and regular stage ; he 

* The praise of introducing order and regularity into the Eng- 
lish drama more properly belongs to Ben Jonson. 



CH. II. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 23 

also introduced the robe, the buskin, and the mask*. 
The learned Bishop of London, Dr. Blomfield, is of 
opinion -j~, that iEschylus was even the first who com- 
posed tragedy on a serious subject, and thatPhryni- 
chus only copied his invention : it is certain that the 
tragedy on the fall of Miletus, which is the first 
mournful play distinctly recorded to have been com- 
posed by Phrynichus, was not presented for some 
years after iEschylus had first contended for the 
tragic prize. 

It is an observation of PorsonJ, that though iEs- 
chylus may have been a greater poet than Sophocles 
or Euripides, yet that the two latter composed better 
plots, and consequently were more skilful drama- 
tists than he. The fables of iEschylus are certainly 
simple to a fault, but there is a naked vastness about 
both his conceptions and his imagery, which often 
seems to reach a strain of eastern magnificence. 
Perhaps there is no more striking example of this 
than the Prometheus, a character which, for gloomy 
majesty and haughty heroism, has been compared to 
Milton's Satan §. 

* So Horace, De A. P. 275. 

** Thespis, inventor of the tragic art, 
Carried his vagrant actors in a cart ; 
High o'er the crowd the mimic tribe appeared, 
And played and sang, with lees of wine besmeared. 
Then iEschylus a decent vizard used, 
Built a low stage, the flowing robe diffused; 
In language more sublime his actors rage, 
And in the graceful buskin tread the stage.'* 

FRANCIS. 

f Prsef. ad Pers. $ Prselec. in Eurip. 

§ By no one have the genius and style of our poet been more 
admirably characterized, than by the German critic Schlegel. 
*' The buskin of iEschylus," says that eloquent writer, " has 



24 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. -II. 

Cicero observes, that in philosophy our poet was 
a Pythagorean, and of this we find many traces in 
the sentiments of his dramas, as a deep veneration in 
what concerns the gods ; high regard for the sanctity 
of an oath and the nuptial bond ; the future exist- 
ence of the soul ; the sacred character of suppli- 
ants ; the science of physiognomy ; the importance 
of proper names, of numbers, and other things. 
If Pythagoras derived the higher of these doctrines 
and sentiments, as we believe he did, from his tra- 
vels in Egypt and the East, and from some acquaint- 
ance with the sacred books of the Hebrews, we 
shall be at no loss to account for their appearance 
in the dramas of his pupil, and for the almost scrip- 
tural language which occasionally crosses us in the 
writings of iEschylus. 

Some authorities ascribe ninety plays to iEsehylus, 
others above a hundred ; but of these, seven only 
are now extant ; and these are, by his recent editor 
(the Bishop of London), arranged in the following 
chronological order : 

1. The Suppliants; 2. The Persians; 3. Pro- 
as it were the weight of brass ; on it none but gigantic figures 
stalk before us. It almost seems to cost him an effort to paint 
mere men ; he frequently brings gods on the stage, particularly 
the Titans, those ancient gods who shadow forth the dark prime- 
val powers of nature, and who had long been driven into Tar- 
tarus, beneath a world governed in tranquillity. In conformity 
with the standard of his dramatis personae, he seeks to swell out 
the language which they employ to a colossal size ; hence there 
arise rugged compound words, an over-multitude of epithets, and 
often an extreme intricacy of syntax in the chorusses, which is 
the cause of great obscurity. He is similar to Dante and Shak- 
speare in the peculiar strangeness of his images and expressions ; 
yet these images are not deficient in that terrible grace which the 
ancients particularly praise in iEschylus." 



CH. III. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. Zi> 

metheus ; 4. The Seven Chiefs against Thebes ; o. 
6. and 7. The Agamemnon, Choephorse, and Eume- 
nides, produced together. 



CHAPTER III. 

Of the Dramatic Festivals at Athens. 

There were three yearly festivals among the Athe- 
nians in honour of Bacchus, all bearing the common 
name of Dionysia, but with other adjuncts, signifi- 
cant of the place or time in which they were held. 
The rural Dionysia, as their name imports, took 
place in all the country towns and villages through- 
out Attica, and were celebrated about the beginning 
of January. The second Dionysia were held in the 
eighth Attic month, answering to part of February 
and March, and bore various appellations ; while 
the third and more important festival was commonly 
distinguished by the titles of the greater or the city 
Dionysia. It was at the second of these festivals, 
that the comic contests were more particularly, 
though not exclusively held. The representations 
lasted but a single day, and none but the inhabitants 
of Attica itself were permitted to be present at 
them. Hence the tragic poets almost always reserved 
their new pieces for the greater Dionysia, which were 
solemnized a month after the former, and continued 
several days ; there being at that time also a great 
concourse of strangers to Athens, who eagerly 
flocked to witness this imposing spectacle, which in- 



26 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. III. 

deed was expected with the most intense interest by 
natives as well as foreigners. 

The prize of the successful candidate no longer 
consisted of either goat or ox, or even of a flask of 
wine, but was simply an ivy wreath or crown, in 
token of his victory, as ivy was peculiarly conse- 
crated to Bacchus. Nor was this honorary reward 
conferred by the voice of the whole audience ; the 
presiding archon caused a certain number of judges, 
usually five, to be chosen by lot, who were then 
sworn to decide impartially, according to the best 
of their judgment, and their award was final. The 
clamour of the people is said, however, to have 
been frequently influential in the decision. Besides 
the name of the successful candidate, they returned 
those of the second and third best, and the num- 
ber of competitors seems rarely to have exceeded 
three. No piece that had gained the prize could 
be a second time admitted to the competition, nor 
could even a rejected piece, unless important alter- 
ations had been made previously to bringing it for- 
ward again. 

So much honour however was done to the dramas 
of iEschylus, that the people permitted any poet 
to aspire to the tragic crown who presented one of 
the pieces of that author, retouched and prepared for 
the occasion, and furnished him with the necessary 
charges of representation at the state expense. 

During one period in the history of the Athenian 
stage, it was the custom for each tragic candidate to 
produce three serious and one satyric drama, to- 
gether entitled a Tetralogy ; otherwise, omitting the 
satyric drama, the three tragedies taken by them- 
selves were called a Trilogy. In the only instance 
of a complete trilogy now remaining, we find them 



CH. III. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 27 

composed on a kindred argument : the Agamem- 
non, Choephorae, and Emnenides of JEschylus were 
comprised in the same trilogy, and with his Pro- 
teus, a satyric play, were entitled his Orestean tet- 
ralogy. The subject of the first is the murder of 
Agamemnon by Clytemnestra, on his return from 
Troy. In the second, Orestes avenges his father 
by putting Clytemnestra and her paramour /Egisthus 
to death ; and in the Eumenides we find him 
haunted by the Furies for this alleged crime : he is, 
however, put upon his trial before a sacred council 
of the Areopagus, selected by Minerva, to whose 
temple he had fled, a suppliant for mercy, and 
the votes of the judges for and against him prov- 
ing equal, he is acquitted of the charge by the 
goddess of wisdom herself, who gives her casting 
voice in his favour. 

Whether or not all the pieces of the same tetra- 
logy were represented consecutively, cannot now be 
ascertained, but it seems most probable that they 
were, and that the productions of different authors 
were brought forward on different days. On this 
supposition the three plays of the trilogy, when con- 
nected, resemble so many acts of the modern drama, 
nor will the three taken together much exceed the 
length of some of our plays, especially if the dra- 
matic part alone be considered, apart from the ly- 
rical chorusses ; while the satyric which followed, oc- 
cupied the place, and served the purpose of our farce. 

Another opinion as to the order in which the pro- 
ductions of the different dramatists were exhibited 
is, that one play of each was presented on the same 
day, and that there were four separate decisions on 
the merits of the authors. M. Dacier supports the 
monstrous proposition, that the several tetralogies 



28 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OP CH. III. 

of all the contending authors were produced in suc- 
cession, in one continued representation, but this is 
incredible from the mere length of time it would have 
occupied. That the whole tetralogy of some one 
poet was performed on the same day, is rendered 
probable from the circumstance that the custom of 
presenting one instead of four plays, is ascribed to 
Sophocles as an improvement ; and this practice, 
which had always obtained with respect to comedy, 
was soon established respecting tragedy also. 

The pieces were first submitted to the principal ma- 
gistrate of Athens, who presided at the greater Dio- 
nysia, and who might accept or summarily reject 
them, as he thought proper : if he approved, lots were 
cast for the actors, and his part assigned to each, ac- 
cording as he was deemed a first, second, or third 
rate performer. Sometimes, however, the privilege 
of selecting his actors was granted to the poet who 
had gained the prize in the preceding contest. The 
number of actors, in addition to the persons of the 
chorus, was limited to three, so that one performer 
must frequently have supported different characters 
in the same piece ; to this there are several allusions 
in the classic authors. At first, as we have seen, 
there was but one, then two, and lastly three * ; 
but as this limitation of their number appears in 
no way conducive to the perfection of the art, 
it is usually ascribed to the necessity of curtailing 
in some measure the extraordinary expenses of the 

* It is to be observed that the numerical limitation did not ex- 
tend to the exclusion of mutes, and that Julius Pollux affirms that 
sometimes even a fourth actor spoke, and that this transgression 
of the general rule was known by a technical name, paracho- 
regema : he cites the Agamemnon of iEschylus as an instance, 
but neither in this nor in any other extant tragedy, is such a ne- 
cessity apparent. 



CH. III. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 29 

choragus, that is, the person selected from among 
the wealthier citizens of Athens to defray the 
charges of a theatrical exhibition, which was one of 
the heaviest burdens of the Athenian state. Actors 
of celebrity were paid extravagantly ; sometimes 
half a talent a day, or nearly a hundred pounds of 
our money, nor did any infamy attach to the em- 
ployment, as at Rome. Lysias the orator mentions 
that he had to furnish a tragic chorus, b.c 410, and 
that it cost him thirty minae, about <£97 of our 
money ; the chorus, like the actors, were allotted to 
each poet by the presiding archon. Both actors 
and choristers took incredible pains to perfect them- 
selves in their art ; there were frequent rehearsals 
before the long expected day of the contest arrived, 
and at these the poet himself usually drilled them in 
their parts. From the nature of their writing ma- 
terials it would have cost more time and trouble to 
write out the several copies requisite for all the per- 
sons of the drama, including the chorus, than to 
teach the parts viva voce, and they were studied ac- 
cordingly from the repeated delivery of the author. 
This process was called " teaching a play ", from 
which phrase several expressions grew into use, both 
in Greek and Latin, that have sometimes been erro- 
neously supposed to refer to the moral teaching of 
the drama. 

The assertion of Lord Kaims, whose information 
on this as well as on some other subjects of which he 
has treated, appears to have been almost as super- 
ficial as it was multifarious, that each Greek tragedy 
is divided into five acts, is without any foundation. 
Many of the continental critics, however, have af- 
firmed this likewise ; there is a precept of Horace 



SO POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. IV. 

to that effect with respect to Roman drama, which 
perhaps gave birth to the error, but from the nature 
of the chorus the Greek play must have been one 
uninterrupted piece of acting from beginning to end. 
The stage is never empty, or but for a moment : if 
the chorus be not present at the opening, it usually 
makes its appearance in the first scene, and rarely 
leaves its place till the play is ended. 



CHAPTER IV. 

Of the Greek Theatre. 

The reader must now be pleased to divest himself 
of all the associations which the modern name of 
theatre or opera-house conjures up to his imagination, 
the covered and curtained box, the crowded motley- 
looking pit, and the general glare of artificial lights, 
and must picture to his mind's eye a colossal struc- 
ture of Parian marble, open at top *, but decorated 

* The theatre at Athens was built at first of wood, but having 
fallen down and killed man}'- spectators during the performance of a 
piece by Pratinas, (that ancient author who, as has been mentioned, 
on one occasion gained the prize from iEschylus,) this splendid edi- 
fice of stone was constructed, which was likewise furnished with spa- 
cious porticos supported by pillars, surrounding the whole build- 
ing, to which the audience retreated in case of a sudden shower. 
For this however there was seldom need. " The climate of 
Athens," says Lord Byron, "to me at least, appeared a per- 
petual spring; during eight months I never passed a day without 
being as many hours on horseback: rain is extremely rare, snow 
never lies in the plains, and a cloudy day is an agreeable rarity.'* 
The theatre appears to have been constructed without a roof, not 



CH. IV. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. SI 

with the most gorgeous magnificence and exquisite 
taste. In this noble building let him imagine thirty 
thousand Greeks assembled to witness what with them 
partook of the solemnity of a religious rite, seated on 
cool commodious seats of semicircular shape, rising 
over each other with a rapid elevation as they recede, 
so as to preserve the view unobstructed towards the 
stage, with the cloudless sky for their canopy, and the 
blue hills of their country, descried over the walls of 
the theatre, closing the distant view. Carrying the eye 
down the prodigious flight of marble benches which 
formed the audience part of the theatre, it perceives 
between the lowest and the stage, which are on the 
same level, a comparatively small sunken semicir- 
cular space, nearly in the situation of the pit of the 
English theatres, set apart for the chorus, when it 
sits inactive, and having a broad staircase at either 
end, by which to ascend upon the stage itself; a di- 
vision of the sunken space between these two stair- 
cases, like the modern orchestra immediately ad- 
joining the stage, and therefore called the hyposce- 
nium, contained the musicians. In front of this, 

only for the sake of light and free circulation, but that from 
its religious character it might be more in accordance with the 
ancient Greek temples which also appear to have been roofless, 
like those of Egypt, it being deemed requisite that sacrifices, or 
any proceeding intended to call specially for the observance and 
attention of the gods, should be performed in the open air. That 
theatrical representations partook of the nature of a religious ce- 
remony among the Greeks, is evident from the circumstance that 
the theatre was purified before the commencement of the pieces, 
and libations to Bacchus made on his altar, the thymele, at the 
close of the performance. It was for this cause, no doubt, among 
others, that the earlier Christians were forbidden to be present at 
scenical representations, as it was almost the same as to be pre- 
sent at pagan sacrifices. 



32 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. IV. 

and opposite to the middle of the stage, that is, 
nearly in the place occupied by the box for the 
prompter's head in our Italian theatre, but in the 
orchestra, so as not to rise above the level of the 
stage, there was an elevation with steps, in shape 
resembling an altar, and thence called thymele, on 
the top of which the coryphceus sat between the 
choral dances, and conversed with the actors, when 
as leader and spokesman of the chorus he took a 
part in the dialogue. The thymele was placed as 
nearly as possible in the middle of the building, and 
round this centre the semicircle of the amphitheatre 
was described. The shape of the stage or scene it- 
self, was rectangular, but its breadth, stretching 
across the whole building, was enormous compared 
with its depth. This shallow strip was called the 
logeum, the middle part of it however receded 
much further than the rest, but still with rectilinear 
sides ; this quadrangular recess was called the pro- 
scenium, and was furnished with a curtain, which, 
when not withdrawn, formed the continuation of 
the back of the logeum. The vast dimensions of 
this stately edifice, as well as the religious solemnity 
of the exhibition, obliged the Greeks to have recourse 
to every possible expedient for increasing the effect 
produced by the actors, both to the eye and to the 
ear. For this purpose the figure and the voice were 
artificially magnified : this was effected by the mask 
and the buskin or cothurnus. The mask was either 
of leather or of very thin wood, stuffed inside ; it 
covered the entire of the head, and was exquisitely 
wrought by the best artists of Athens, in imitation 
of the marble statue of the person represented, or 
under the immediate direction of the poet himself. 



CH. IV. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 33 

The mechanism of the joinings, and whatever 
could improve the beauty and expression of the fea- 
tures, was attended to with the nicest accuracy * ; 
the opening for the mouth was so contrived as 
to increase the sound of the voice exceedingly, and be- 
sides this, there were brazen vessels, constructed 
on acoustical principles, and extending under the 
seats of the spectators, which, in some manner un- 
intelligible to us, enabled the articulation on the 
stage to be distinctly heard in the remotest benches 
of the amphitheatre. The increased size of the 
head, produced by the mask, was proportionate to 
the increase of height caused by the cothurnus, or 
buskin, the sole of which was composed of several 
layers of cork or other light wood, so as to raise its 
wearer four or five inches ; gauntlets lengthened 
their arms, and the dress, a rich and flowing habit 
with a train, was so managed as to conceal the want 

* " We may learn ", says Schlegel, " the forms of the mask by 
the imitations in stone which have come down to us. They are 
equally beautiful and various. We must be convinced, by the rich 
stock of technical terms, which the Greek language affords for all 
the gradations of age and character in a mask, that there was a 
great variety of them, even in the tragic department ; it is per- 
fectly clear that there was in the comic. But what we cannot 
see in marble masks, is their thinness, their elegant colouring, 
and their neat way of fastening on. The profusion of excellent 
workmanship at Athens, in every thing that concerned the gra- 
phic arts, allows us to suppose that in these respects they were not 
to be surpassed. He who has seen, during the Carnival at Rome, 
the wax masks of the grave sort which have lately come into 
vogue, which also partly surround the head, may form a tolerable 
idea of the theatrical masks of the ancients. Those that I have 
mentionedimitatelife, even to motion, in the most exquisite manner, 
and deceive one perfectly at the distance at which the ancient 
actors were seen." 

D 



34 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. IV* 

of corresponding magnitude in the rest of the limbs, 
so that the actors, as has been already observed, 
more resembled colossal statues of the finest sculp- 
ture, waked into life and motion, than imitators of 
mere ordinary humanity. Their robes, however, 
necessarily varied, as they were scrupulously adapt- 
ed to the character represented. The actor who 
played the part of a king, appeared with a diadem 
and an eagle-crowned sceptre, and gorgeously vest- 
ed in a robe of purple, ornamented with gold. He- 
roes were clad in armour, and a mantle of skin, 
of a lion or tiger, or some other fierce wild ani- 
mal. The unfortunate exhibited themselves in sad- 
coloured and sometimes torn garments ; so that the 
rank and situation of each person of the drama 
might be indicated at the first glance by his dress. 
The masks of the female characters represented 
the head-dress, as well as the head ; these parts 
also were played by men ; as well because the pri- 
vacy in which the Greek women lived, rendered 
it inconsistent with their notions of propriety to ap- 
pear on the stage, as also because the voice, " gen- 
tle and low ", and the other feminine characteristics 
of the sex, were deemed insufficient to convey an 
adequate idea of the energy of their tragic heroines. 
Besides, as the number of performers was limited 
to three, each must frequently have represented both 
a male and a female character in the same perform- 
ance, which could not have been done with any 
propriety by a woman*. Whether women were 

* It is worth observing, that in our England also the female 
parts were at first played by boys, and all women, who even at- 
tended the representation as part of the audience, wore masks. 
This offers some apology for the indelicacies, neither slight nor 



CH. IV. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 66 

permitted to be even spectators of theatrical re- 
presentations, is a question yet agitated among an- 
tiquaries ; more than one passage might be quoted 
from Plato *, to shew that they were not excluded, 
at all events, from the tragic representations ; but 
for the sake of even Greek female delicacy, let us be 
allowed to hope, that they were not suffered to wit- 
ness the exhibitions of what is usually termed the 
Old Comedy. 

With respect to the instrumental accompaniment 
of the voice in ancient tragedy, it is clearly demon- 
strable, from the harmonic problems of Aristotle 
and many other authorities, that the music was not 
confined to the choral odes, but pervaded most of 
the dialogue also, so that their declamation must 
have somewhat resembled the recitative of our mo- 
dern opera. Metastasio argues that music must 
have been employed throughout the whole piece, be- 
cause it is reckoned by Aristotle among the parts of 
quality, and the quality necessarily pervades the 
whole piece, and its parts are not confined to parti- 
cular portions of the tragedy, as the parts of quan- 
tity are. Aristotle expressly says, however, that in 
some parts the language of tragedy is embellished by 
metre only ; from these therefore music was excluded. 
The quick repartee, where the dialogue is regularly 
carried on in amoebaean or alternate verses, as it is 
the least elevated and most prosaic part of tragedy, 
was probably that which was unaccompanied by 

occasional, we regret to say, of Shakspeare and his contemporaries, 
though no palliation of the grossness of too many of his successors, 
at a time when the respective characters of the drama were per- 
formed by the respective sexes. 
* See his Gorgias, 502, d. De Legg. B. 2. 658, d. 7. 817, c. 

D 2 



36 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. IV. 

music ; indeed its frequent recurrence and continu- 
ance seems to have been one of the " vestigia ruris," 
the remains of primitive rusticity, some of which 
continued to cling to the Greek as well as to the 
Roman tragedies. As far as one can judge from 
ancient writers on the stage, the voice of the chorus 
was guided by the flute, and that of the actors in re- 
citation usually by a peculiar lyre, called the lyre of 
Mercury, which pitched and sustained the voice at 
the requisite elevation. Each ode was preceded by 
a symphony, or prelude, on two flutes. 

As to scenery, the action usually passes in the 
vestibule of a palace or temple placed directly op- 
posite the spectators, with streets, or the sea-beach, 
or the open country, seen in perspective, going off at 
each side. Hence the front scene was generally ar- 
chitectural ; sometimes, however, it too was a land- 
scape-painting, as in the Prometheus for example, 
where it represents the bare and rugged aspect of 
Mount Caucasus. The side scenes were composed 
of triangles, which moved on pivots, and opened, so 
as to discover the inside of a house or tent, if ne- 
cessary. A number of machines, ropes, wires, and 
other paraphernalia, were also used for flights 
through the air in the descent of divinities and the 
appearance of ghosts ; cloud-enveloped platforms 
for the gods to stand on when they came down ; 
contrivances to produce lightning and thunder, &c. 
These, when unemployed, were kept out of view be- 
hind the side scenes. Ghosts usually ascended by 
a ladder, called " Charon's stair," from the vaults be- 
neath, into the orchestra, and thence upon the stage. 

As the theatre of Athens was built at the public 
expense, and the cost of each exhibition defrayed 



CH. IV. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 37 

by some wealthy individual, it was originally open to 
every one, and no price was demanded for admis- 
sion. The crushing and quarrelling for places that 
ensued, occasioned a law to be passed, establishing a 
payment to be made at entrance, and fixing it at a 
drachma each, about eight-pence of our money. Pe- 
ricles, to ingratiate himself with the common people, 
brought in a decree reducing the price to one-third 
of a drachma, or two oboli, and enacting that every 
applicant should be furnished with this sum by the 
public treasurer, out of the national funds. 

The money thus heedlessly squandered was drawn 
from the contributions which had been set apart, as 
an almost sacred deposit, for carrying on any future 
Persian war, and soon engrossed them almost wholly. 
So eager were the Athenian multitude about this pri- 
vilege, that they made it by their law a capital offence 
for any man to propose the restoration of these funds 
to their original and only legitimate object, or to en- 
deavour to dissuade them from a misapplication of 
the national resources, so palpably ruinous to their 
own best interests. The money paid at the theatre 
seems to have gone to the machinist, or general ma- 
nager of scenes and machinery, who probably de- 
frayed all the expenses except those of the Cho- 
ragus, on whom devolved the furnishing of the 
dresses and equipment of the chorus. 

The people hastened to the theatre at day-light 
in the morning, for the performances began very 
early, and continued all day long. Between each 
exhibition, however, the audience retired, and the 
house was cleared for a short interval : it does not 
appear whether the same persons usually returned ; 
the judges of the performances must have done so 
of course ; but it is more probable that the majority 



38 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. IV. 

of the spectators did not, and that there were three 
or four successive audiences each day. We learn from 
Athenseus that they occasionally regaled themselves 
with cakes, wine, and nuts, within the theatre, and 
during the performance. 

As to the chorus, which formed so prominent a 
part of the ancient drama, the beauty and sub- 
limity, both lyrical and moral, of the poetry it has 
preserved to us, render it very difficult to censure 
the Greek tragedians for continuing to retain it, 
even after their compositions had assumed a regu- 
larly dramatic form, but the impropriety of intro- 
ducing it on our stage can scarcely admit of ques- 
tion. At Athens, the singing and dancing con- 
veyed to the spectators no idea of merriment, 
but on the contrary inspired them with a de- 
gree of awe, as being that which their minds had 
been accustomed to associate with every religious 
rite and festival ; this was an essential advan- 
tage. In the modern theatre a chorus would 
obstruct the action materially, because there is no 
place provided for its reception, and on the stage 
itself it would be in the way. It must be recol- 
lected, too, that the subjects of almost all the Greek 
tragedies related to kings, or to great public affairs, 
which therefore required, according to their notions 
of propriety, the presence of a considerable num- 
ber of persons, while our writers have frequently 
descended to an humbler sphere, where less of 
pomp and circumstance is necessary. How far, 
however, it might be practicable and advisable to 
introduce between the acts of modern tragedy, 
music adapted to the subject, commencing in the 
strain of the preceding passion, and gradually va- 
rying, till it accorded with the tone of that which 



€11. IV. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 3d 

is to follow, according to the suggestion of Lord 
Kaimes, the writer leaves to be determined by those 
who are more intimately versed than he in the ar- 
cana of our theatre. 

Greek tragedy, as we have seen, was originally 
but an episode added to the chorus, whose song and 
dance at first comprised the whole performance. 
By progressive improvements in the structure and 
connexion of the dramatic fable, the choral part 
became subordinate to the dialogue, and gradually 
growing digressive, and unconnected with what was 
now considered the business of the play, at length 
it disappeared altogether. Previously to the repre- 
sentation of the Eumenides of iEschylus, the num- 
ber of persons in the chorus was probably inde- 
terminate : on that occasion it is said to have 
amounted to fifty persons, but as these represented 
Furies, the frightful appearance of so many hideous 
looking personages on the scene at once, produced 
so bad an effect, that a law w r as passed limiting the 
number to twelve *, but Sophocles afterwards suc- 
ceeded in extending the limitation to fifteen. 

On its first entry, the chorus took its position 
either in three rows of five each, or in five rows ot 
three. Preserving this order, they danced across 
the orchestra or dancing space, from right to left, 
singing the first portion of their ode, called Strophe, 
or Turn ; then, keeping the same time and the same 
step, they moved from left to right, repeating the 

* Such is the common story, but it is argued with great force 
by the learned Bishop of London, that the number on this occa- 
sion could not have even exceeded the well known three, without 
such an outrageous and uncalled for violation of the received my- 
thology, as w T ould have shocked an Athenian audience. 



40 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. IV. 

Antistrophe, or Counter-turn ; hence the antistrophe 
always answers to the strophe, not only in the num- 
ber of the lines, but also in the isochronal measure 
of the corresponding verses, because it was sung 
and danced to a repetition of the same musical 
strain ; indeed for the most part the corresponding 
feet of the two are identical. When the strophes 
and antistrophes were completed, the chorus stood 
still, in the middle of the stage, and sang the Epode, 
or Stand*. Some choral odes, however, have no 
epode, while others have a prosode preceding the 
first strophe, as well as an epode at the close, as in 
the second choral song of the Agamemnon. Some 
also consist of dissimilar verses not formed into 
corresponding collections, and were probably sung 
by the chorus advancing and retiring simply, with- 
out the usual lateral movements : such odes are 
called monostrophic, and the parodos, or first song 
of the whole chorus, is commonly of this sort. 

The person who led the chorus and acted as their 
prolocutor was called the Coryphaeus, and not only 
in the dialogue did he speak for all, but as some 

* These evolutions are conjectured, (Dr. Francklin, the translator 
of Sophocles, thinks whimsically,) to have had a secret reference 
to the motions of the sphere and of the planets. Pere Brumoy, 
copying from Vossius, writes, " le chceur alloit de droite a gauche, 
pour exprimer le cours journalier du firmament, d'orient en Occi- 
dent ; ce tour s'appelloit strophe ; il declinoit ensuite de gauche a 
droite, par egard aux planetes, qui outre le mouvement commun 
ont encore le leur particulier d'occident vers l'orient. C'etoit V an- 
tistrophe, ou le retour; enfin le chceur s'arretoit au milieu du 
theatre, pour y chanter un morceau qu'on nommoit epode, et 
pour marquer par cette situation la stabilite de la terre." It is 
curious that Triclinius states exactly the converse of these move- 
ments for the strophe and antistrophe, though he assigns pre- 
cisely the same reasons for them as those of Vossius, 



CH. IV. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 41 

have imagined, this practice was also carried into 
the lyric part ; the chorus, when it has occasion 
to allude to itself, usually doing so in the singular 
number*. When the chorus was parted into two 
semi-chorusses, as for example in the Ajax of So- 
phocles, when, immediately after the death of the 
hero, the two divisions of the chorus enter at oppo- 
site extremities of the stage, and advance searching 
along till they meet in the middle of it, a second 
coryphaeus was appointed. The two halves of the 
chorus, answering to each other, were called Hemi- 
choria. The person next the coryphaeus was called 
parastates, and the one next to him tritostates ; these 
were selected for their excellence in singing, but 
they pitched their voice in a lower key than that of 
the coryphaeus himself. It appears, from a frag- 
ment of Menander, that in his time it was custo- 
mary to admit two or three mutes into the hindmost 
row of the chorus, when the number of singers was 
deficient. That graceful and majestic movement 
which we call the choral dance, and which, in tra- 

* That this however is an improbable supposition, is pretty 
evident from what follows respecting the offices of the parastates 
and tritostates. It may be added, that the practice of German 
scholars and poets (and none have investigated the Greek drama 
more deeply or successfully) is decidedly against such a notion ; — 
and from the results produced, it may be added, most wisely. The 
writer of this note remembers witnessing some years ago in the 
beautiful theatre at Stutgard a representation of Schiller's ' Bride 
of Messina ', a drama confessedly formed on the model of the Greek 
stage, with a chorus attached to it, and the effect of its lyrical effu- 
sions, delivered as they were by a body of men, all using the same 
intonation, and all apparently actuated by the same volitions and 
expression of opinion, created an impression on his mind, which can 
never be erased. From the above explanation it is evident that the 
chorus, though pouring forth its strains collectively, might still with 
propriety speak of itself in the singular number. 



42 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. IV. 

gedy, the Greeks named Emmeleia, a peculiar and 
distinguishing epithet expressive of the union of 
dignity, elegance, and musical regularity of motion, 
was, like the vocal part, led by the coryphaeus. 

With respect to the character which the chorus 
should support in the play, Aristotle says it should be 
considered as one of the persons of the drama, should 
be a part of the whole, and a sharer in the action, 
rather as it is in Sophocles than in Euripides, and 
not at all as in the poets subsequent to them, who 
have neglected this rule. The scholiast too has 
censured the chorusses of Euripides, and with ap- 
parent reason, as being irrelevant. Horace, fol- 
lowing Aristotle, thus describes the office of the 
chorus ; 

" The chorus must support an actor's part, 
Side with the virtuous and advise with art ; 
Bridle wild rage, the arrogant appease, 
And short repasts of frugal tables praise. 
Applaud the justice of well governed states, 
And peace triumphant with her open gates. 
Intrusted secrets let them ne'er betray, 
But to the righteous gods with ardour pray 
That fortune with returning smiles may bless 
Afflicted worth, and impious pride depress: 
Yet let their songs with apt coherence join, 
Promote the plot and aid the main design." 

ART OF POETRY, 193. 

It is not however by any means intended, by 
either x\ristotle or Horace, that the chorus should 
take as important a share in the play as one of the 
persons of the drama ; they only mean that it should 
feel and express a lively interest in the progress of 
the action, that it should be sufficiently concerned 
in the events to make its presence natural and pro- 
per, yet not so deeply interested as to prevent it 



CH. IV. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 43 

from making apposite general reflections of a mo- 
ral and instructive kind, which were well suited to 
the genius and simplicity of the time. 

The dialect of the chorus was chiefly Doric, pro- 
bably a remnant of its Doric origin and primitive 
rusticity ; for the Dorians, shut out by their situ- 
ation from much intercourse with other nations, 
' longest retained the original customs and language 
of Greece, and they claimed the invention of 
both Tragedy and Comedy, alleging certain etymo- 
logical reasons from the very names of the art, and 
Aristotle seems to think their claim well founded. 

At first, as has been observed, the dramatic cho- 
rus represented frisking Satyrs, the companions of 
Bacchus, who was himself the inventor of the 
choral dance, at least he is styled so by Anacreon*. 
Horace, too, characterizes the persons of the pri- 
mitive chorus thus : 

" The first tragedians found the serious style 

Too grave for their uncultivated age, 

And so brought wanton naked Satyrs in, 

Whose motions, words, and shape, were all a farce ; 

Because the mad ungovernable rout 

Full of confusion and the fumes of wine, 

Loved such variety and antic tricks." 

As then their ludicrous verses bade farewell to 
gravity, the Trochaic or galloping metre was the 
one chiefly employed, as best adapted to the salta- 
torial and jocular nature of the subject : afterwards, 
with the episode and dialogue, the Iambic measure 
was introduced, as being of all metres the most 
colloquial and dramatic : 

" Numbers for dialogue and action fit, 
And whose peculiar province is the stage.'* 

HORACE. ART OF POETRY. 



* Tov ' Etyzupirxv %ooiiu;. (Ode 41.) 



4-4 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. V. 

Subsequently, for the sake of variety, and for the 
greater ease of writing, the Anapaestic metre also 
was admitted. 

It may amuse the English reader to know what 
are the kinds of English verse answering to the 
Iambic trimeter, Anapaestic dimeter, and Trochaic 
tetrameter of the Greek tragedies. The twelve-syl- 
labled iambic, or Alexandrine of our standard he- 
roic, as 

" They warmed their frozen feet, and dried their wet attire.' * 
corresponds to the first : the Anapaestic we retain 
under the same name, as 

" May I govern my passions with absolute sway, 
And grow wiser and better as life wears away," 

while the first verse of the drinking song instanced 

. . *^ c 

by Mr. Twining, affords a familiar example of .the 

trochaic tetrameter catalectic : 

" Jolly mortals, fill your glasses, noble deeds are done by wine." 



CHAPTER V. 

On Aristotle s treatise of Poetics. 

Aristotle, the disciple of Plato, the disciple of 
Socrates, was the first who carried philosophical in- 
vestigation into the regions of poetic fiction. After 
his death, his works unfortunately fell into the hands 
of illiterate persons, by whom they were neglected 
and defaced. At length, when Attalus was forming 
the Pergamenian library, which was subsequently 
transferred to the Alexandrian collection, and burnt 
with it by the Caliph Omar, a.d. 642., the manuscripts 



CH. V. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. -1-3 

of the Stagirite were offered for sale, and being 
purchased by Apellicon of Teos, were removed, in 
a very mutilated condition, from a damp cellar un- 
der ground, in which they had long lain mouldering 
to decay. 

The treatise of poetics is very imperfect, so much 
so, that by many it is deemed not even the frag- 
ment of Aristotle's original work, but only of a 
summary of that treatise, made by some scholar or 
admirer of the philosopher. Such as it is, however, 
it contains much very valuable matter ; to it, and 
to the multifarious learning it has called forth, in 
the form of commentary and explanation, the editor 
is chiefly indebted for the preliminary information 
here presented to the reader. In this work, Aris- 
totle ascribes the origin of dramatic, and indeed of 
all poetry, to man's instinctive love of imitation, of 
melody and of rhythm. The indulgence and the 
cultivation of these tastes naturally gave birth to 
poetry, first of a rude historical or epic kind, and 
subsequently, in a more advanced stage, to tragedy 
and comedy. The Margites of Homer, a satirical 
work, of which only a few lines are now extant, he 
considers as bearing the same analogy to comedy, 
as the Iliad and Odyssey do to tragedy. He defines 
tragedy to be " an imitation of some action that is 
important, entire, and of a proper magnitude, by 
language embellished and rendered pleasurable, but 
by different means in different parts ; — in the way 
not of narration, but of action, effecting through pity 
and terror the correction and refinement of such pas- 
sions."* It consists, therefore, of six parts, by 

* Schlegel has remarked, with reason, that interpreters are by 
no means agreed as to the meaning of this latter position, and 
have taken shelter under the most forced and discordant expo- 



46 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. V. 

which its qua lity is determined, namely; 1. Fable, 
or plot ; 2. Manners, or character ; 3. Sentiments ; 
4. Diction ; 5. Music ; and 6. Decoration, which 
last includes scenery, dresses, &c. 

Of these he ranks the fable first in importance, 
and the rest in the order in which they are here 
placed ; the first three relate to the objects of imita- 
tion, namely men, and their actions and characters : 
the fourth and fifth to the means of imitation, which 
are words, melody, and rhythm ; and the last to the 
manner of imitation, which is by actual representation. 

The distinct parts requisite to constitute the 
quantity of tragedy are four in number ; the pro- 

sitions. It may, perhaps, contribute to the right understanding 
of the manner in which Aristotle thought pity and terror would 
tend to effect their own amelioration, to subjoin a passage from his 
treatise of government, on the power of music to allay mental 
excitement : " Whatever passions have a strong effect on any 
minds, will have some effect on all, and they will therefore differ 
only in degree ; such passions, for example, as pity and terror, 
to which we may add enthusiasm, a mood of mind wherewith some 
men are violently affected. Now we see that this last, when those sa- 
cred melodies which accompany the celebration of the mystic rites 
are performed, is soothed and quieted as if by medicine or pur- 
gation ; and the same thing will happen to those who are liable to 
the impressions of pity or terror, or whose passions in general are 
easily excited. They ivill feel a kind of unburthening, or ]«m- 
fcation of the mind, accompanied by a degree of pleasure." 

It may be added, that by the word entire in the definition, 
Aristotle afterwards explains himself to mean, " that which has 
a beginning, a middle, and an end. A beginning is that which 
does not necessarily suppose any thing before it, but which re- 
quires something to follow. An end, on the contrary, is that 
which supposes something to precede it, either necessarily or pro- 
bably, but which nothing is required to follow. A middle is that 
which both supposes something to precede and requires something 
to follow. The poet, therefore, who would construct his fable 
properly, is not at liberty to begin or end where he pleases, but 
must conform to these definitions." 



CII. V. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 47 

logue, episode, exode, and the chorus. The last is 
subdivided into parode, stasimon, and kommoi. The 
prologue is all that part which precedes the parode, 
or first song of the whole chorus ; the episode com- 
prises all between whole choral songs, the exode is 
whatsoever follows the last song of the chorus. 

The prologue should contain whatever preliminary 
information is necessary for the right understanding 
of the plot, and awaken the interest of the spectator, 
without too far gratifying his curiosity as to the ca- 
tastrophe : the episode, the complication of the fable 
by the intervention of new circumstances, which yet 
insensibly lead and contribute to the denouement. 
The exode unfolds the catastrophe. 

In modern plays the first act is supposed to oc- 
cupy the place of the ancient prologue, the second, 
third, and fourth, of the episode, and the fifth that of 
the exode. The prologue of the Roman drama re- 
sembled our own, and consisted merely of an ad- 
dress of the poet to the audience. 

Of the Choric odes, the parodos is that first sung 
by the whole chorus after its entrance ; the stasimon 
includes all those without anapaests or trochees, 
which were sung by the chorus without varying its 
position. Kommoi are properly a general lament- 
ation of actors and chorus together ; but many tra- 
gedies are without this part, which is not essential. 

But of all the parts the most important is the 
combination of incidents, or the fable : because tra- 
gedy is an imitation not of characters, but of ac- 
tions ; for the proper end of tragedy is to affect, but 
it is by their actions that men are made happy or 
the contrary, therefore tragedy imitates manners, 
or human character, only so far as that is necessarily 
involved in the imitation of human action, which is 



48 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OE CH. V. 

the end, and therefore chief. Further, this fable, 
or connexion of circumstances which we call plot, 
should be probable rather than true in its incidents, 
and single rather than double in its structure. The 
catastrophe should be unhappy, and result not from 
the vice but from the error and frailty of some great 
and flourishing character, as in the case of GEdi- 
pus *. With respect to the measure of its length, Aris- 
totle observes, that since beauty consists in magnitude 
and order, a certain length of fable is indispensable, 
but it must be such as to present a whole easily 
comprehended by the memory. The more exten- 
sive however this whole is, consistently with the 
clear and easy comprehension of it in one view, the 
more beautiful will the fable be with respect to 
magnitude. In general we may say that an action 
is sufficiently extended when it is long enough to 
admit of a change of fortune from happy to unhappy, 
or the reverse, brought about by a succession, ne- 
cessary or probable, of well connected incidents. 
The change is best wrought finally by Peripateia or 
by Anagnorisis : by the former is meant a revolu- 
tion, or a consequence the very reverse of that 
which is expected from the circumstances which 
lead to it ; as when in the GEdipus Tyrannus of So- 
phocles, the messenger (1. 1014) meaning to make 
the king happy, and to relieve him from his fears 
respecting his parents, by making known to him 
his real birth, produces an effect directly contrary 

* So also our Chaucer writes : 

" Tragedie is to sayn a certain storie, 
As olde bookes maken us memorie, 
Of him that stode in gret prosperitee, 
And is yfallen out of high degree 
Into miserie, andendeth wretchedEe." — cant, tales. 



CH. V. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 49 

to his intention, because his information leads to a 
disclosure which confirms all that CEdipus had so 
much reason to dread. Anagnorisis or recognition, 
is when some principal person of the drama is dis- 
covered to be different from what had been before 
supposed, as when Orestes unexpectedly discovers 
the priestess of Diana at Tauris, to be his own sister 
Iphigeneia. That is the best sort of anagnorisis 
which is accompanied by peripateia, as in the in- 
stance of CEdipus, before cited. 

The second part of tragedy, namely the manners, 
which mark and distinguish characters, and enable 
us to judge beforehand how such a person is likely 
to act in a given conjuncture of circumstances, 
should be good, becoming, like and uniform. It is not 
meant by this that the manners of every person in 
the piece should be absolutely good, but as much so 
as the description of character will admit of, without 
violating the other requisites. Sentiments, namely, 
the capacity of expressing actual and suitable 
thoughts, include whatever is the object of speech, 
as to prove, to confute, to move the passions, and 
the rest ; and therefore is referred to the principles 
laid down in the books of rhetoric. 

Under the head of diction, Aristotle enters into a 
somewhat minute analysis of language in general, but 
concludes, that the excellence of diction consists in 
being perspicuous without being mean ; that poetic 
• diction requires the use of foreign, uncommon, and 
ornamental words, but that the happy use of meta- 
phor is most important of all, for this alone it is. 
(in the diction,) which cannot be acquired, and 
which, consisting in a quick discernment of resem- 
blances, is a certain mark of genius. The intention 

E 



50 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS, ETC. CH. V. 

of foreign and uncommon terms is to raise and ele- 
vate the diction, which is also effected in some de- 
gree by the technical collocation of the words. 

As modern critics usually class the Epopee in the 
highest rank of poetry, and Dr. Blair has not hesi- 
tated to preface his account of that species with a 
declaration that " the epic poem is universally al- 
lowed to be of all poetical works the most dignified, 
and at the same time the most difficult in execution," 
it is worth noting that Aristotle gives a decided 
preference to tragedy. Tragedy, he tells us, has 
the advantage in the following respects : it possesses 
all that is possessed by the epic, it might even adopt 
its metre ; and it has, besides, the music and the de- 
coration, peculiar to itself. It has greater clearness 
and distinctness of impression than the epic, as well 
in reading as in representation. It attains the end 
of its imitation in a shorter compass ; for the effect 
is more pleasurable when produced by a short and 
close series of impressions, than when weakened by 
diffusion through a long extent of time. Farther, 
there is less strictness of unity in all epic imitation, 
as appears from this, that any the most perfect 
epic poem, (as the Iliad and Odyssey for example,) 
will furnish subject matter for several tragedies. 
If then, he concludes, tragedy be superior to the 
epic in all these respects, and also in the peculiar 
end at which it aims, namely, to give that pleasure 
which arises from terror and pity, through imitation, 
(for each species ought to afford, not any pleasure 
indiscriminately, but such only as has been pointed 
out,) it evidently follows that Tragedy, as it more 
effectually attains the end of the art itself, must de- 
serve the preference. 



THE 

AGAMEMNON 

OF 

^SCHYLUS. 



PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

HERALD. 

AGAMEMNON. 

CASSANDRA. 

^EGISTHUS. 

CHORUS of AGED ARGIVES. 



E 2 



THE AGAMEMNON OF «SCHYLUS. 55 



INTRODUCTION. 

The last exhibition of dramas which iEschylus pre- 
sented to an Athenian audience before he retired 
into Sicily, consisted of the Agamemnon, the Choe- 
phorae, and the Furies. These three plays are yet 
extant ; and it is remarkable, that they form the 
only remaining example of the three connected 
pieces of the ancient trilogy. Hence, as well as for 
their intrinsic excellence, they have been placed first 
in the present volume, that the reader may at once 
more perfectly understand the usage of antiquity in 
this respect, and may form his own judgment of the 
suggestion previously thrown out, that the several 
pieces of the same trilogy might be regarded merely 
as distinct divisions of the same drama. The bro- 
thers, Agamemnon and Menelaus, married Clytem- 
nestra and Helen, daughters of Leda. Helen's 
flight with Paris caused the war of Troy. When 
the Grecian fleet assembled under the command of 
Agamemnon king of Argos, to pursue the fugitive 
and avenge the outrage, it was long detained at Au- 
lis by contrary winds. Calchas, the most skilful of 
their augurs, on consulting the omens, declared that 
this detention was owing to the influence of Diana, 
whose anger Agamemnon had kindled, by the death 
of a favourite white doe consecrated to her, which 
he had inadvertently pierced with an arrow while 
hunting. The seer pronounced the immolation of 
Iphigeneia, daughter of the king, to be the only 
means by which the resentment of the goddess 
could be appeased ; and notwithstanding the an- 



54 INTRODUCTION TO 

guish with which such a sacrifice could not fail to 
wring a father's heart, the clamours of the army 
prevailed ; and after an agonizing conflict with his 
parental feelings, the fatal order was given which 
consigned Iphigeneia to death. We shall afterwards 
find this sacrifice the subject of one of the most 
exquisitely touching of the tragedies of Euripides. 

Clytemnestra leagued with her paramour iEgis- 
thus to assassinate her husband Agamemnon, on his 
triumphant return from the Trojan war, and she 
pleads his consent to the death of Iphigeneia as her 
excuse. Agamemnon also brought with him from 
Troy a captive concubine, Cassandra, daughter of 
Priam, on whom Apollo had bestowed the gift of 
prophecy, but being denied the reward he had ex- 
pected for the boon, had touched her lips with his 
tongue, and willed her to be deemed insane, so that 
none of her predictions might ever be believed. 
She frequently foretold to Agamemnon the fate 
that awaited his return to Argos ; but her solemn 
warnings, which form one of the most highly wrought 
scenes of the following tragedy, were wholly disre- 
garded. On arriving at his palace, Agamemnon 
was welcomed with a sumptuous feast ; and in 
coming out of the bath, the usual preparation for a 
banquet, he was presented by Clytemnestra with a 
tunic, the sleeves of which were sewed together to 
embarrass him. When his hands w T ere entangled in 
the folds of the robe, Clytemnestra, assisted by iEgis- 
thus, dispatched him with repeated blows of an axe. 

It has already been observed that the plots of all 
the Greek tragedies which have come down to us, 
are mythological or historical, and not the offspring 
of pure invention. In the present instance, iEschy- 
lus has faithfully adhered to the received account of 



THE AGAMEMNON OF /ESCHYLUS. 

the calamities which befel the house of Pelops. 
Tantalus, whose fabled fate must be familiar to 
every reader, was the father of Pelops. Atreus and 
Thyestes were his sons. Atreus deposed his bro- 
ther from the throne which was his birthright, and 
he in turn seduced the wife of the usurper. Atreus, 
in revenge, killed the progeny of this adultery, and 
served them up at a banquet, so that Thyestes un- 
consciously ate of his own children. The perpe- 
trator of this deed of horror then proclaimed his 
triumph, at which the sun is said to have shrunk 
back in his course appalled*. iEgisthus, whom 
iEschylus paints in the following play as the guilty 
avenger of this impious atrocity, was the offspring of 
an incestuous intercourse between Thyestes and Pe- 
lopea. 

It would seem, from this relation, that the indig- 
nation of the gods of the heathen Pantheon was vi- 
sited upon the descendants of the guilty, to the 
third and fourth generation. The crime of Tanta- 
lus caused the line of Pelops to be haunted and pu- 
nished by the Furies, or the powers of darkness. It 
was they who, after a long series of previous perse- 
cutions, evinced in the crimes and calamities of 
Atreus and Thyestes, directed the shaft of Aga- 
memnon against the sacred hind of Diana ; this 
caused the anger of the goddess, and the consequent 
immolation of Iphigeneia, which, in turn, served as a 
pretext to Clytemnestra for the murder of her hus- 

* Hence Milton, describing the dire effects of eating of the 
forbidden tree, writes, 

— " At that tasted fruit, 
The sun, as from Thyestean banquet, turned 
His course intended; else how had the world 
Inhabited, though sinless, more than now 
Avoided pinching cold and scorching heat? 



56 INTRODUCTION TO 

band. Orestes avenges this murder by the death of 
her, his mother ; and it is only on receiving expia- 
tion and forgiveness from the gods themselves, that 
even he escapes destruction. To those who are not 
familiarly versed in classic lore, it may be consoling 
to learn that the common supplement to the story of 
Iphigeneia's sacrifice is, that in the moment when 
Calchas had raised his knife to strike the fatal blow, 
Diana herself, touched with compassion for the in- 
nocence and beauty of the virgin victim, suddenly 
snatched her away to her temple in the Taurick Cher- 
sonesus, and substituted in her stead a goat of un- 
common size and beauty. The striking resemblance 
of some of these circumstances to the facts recorded 
in sacred history of the intended sacrifice of Isaac, 
cannot escape the most cursory reader. 

It is remarkable, that though the Tragic writers, 
and their illustrious lyric contemporary, Pindar, 
ascribe the existence of human sacrifice to the siege 
of Troy, we find no trace of this abomination in 
Homer or in Hesiod. On the contrary, the latter 
expressly notices the detention of the Grecian fleet 
at Aulis by tempestuous weather, but makes no 
mention of so extraordinary an event as this fate of 
Iphigeneia, and Homer seems plainly to contradict 
it ; for in the ninth Iliad we learn, that among the 
peace-offerings proposed by Agamemnon to propi- 
tiate Achilles, one is the choice of his three daughters, 
Chrysothemis, Laodice, and Iphianassa, in marriage, 
with a princely dower. Of these two are gene- 
rally admitted to be the Iphigeneia and Electra 
of the Tragic poets. Indeed Homer is wholly 
silent respecting those domestic feuds and atroci- 
ties which are said to have polluted the house 
of Pelops ; and in the second Iliad he distinctly in- 



THE AGAMEMNON OF JESCHYLUS. 57 

timates the peaceable transmission of the regal 
power, from Pelops down to Agamemnon. What 
he says is this : " Mercury gave the sceptre which 
Vulcan had wrought with art, to Pelops, manager of 
steeds ; but Pelops gave it to Atreus, shepherd of 
his people. Atreus at his death left it to Thyestes, 
rich in flocks, and lastly Thyestes left it to the 
charge of royal Agamemnon, to rule over all Argos 
and many islands." * 

It is observed, however, that when the monarch 
first addresses Calchas in the Iliad, he denounces 
him as a prophet of evil, never predicting aught to 
glad his heart ; and this is supposed by some to re- 
fer to his previous conduct at Aulis. 

Agamemnon and Menelaus are usually styled 
sons of Atreus, but incorrectly. If we may credit 
Hesiod, Apollodorus, and even iEschylus himself f, 
they were the sons of Plisthenes, son of Atreus, 
who died when his children were very young : their 
grandfather in consequence having brought them up 
in his house and instructed them, they were thence 
known by the surname of Atridae. 

In the original, the following play opens with 
the soliloquy of a sentry, whose office for the 
nine preceding years has been to watch, ' fixed, as a 
dog, on Agamemnon's roof,' for the beacon-fire 
by which the king at his departure had pro- 
mised Clytemnestra to communicate to Argos the 
earliest intelligence of the capture of Troy. The 
watcher, after bewailing his hapless fate in being 
doomed to so tedious an occupation, complains 

* Iliad, B. 104. 

t See the imprecation of iEgisthus, exulting in the murder of 
Agamemnon : — 

" Thus perish all the race of Plisthenes! " 



58 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

that he no longer has spirits to cheer himself up 
with ends of verse and snatches of old tunes, 
while the dews of heaven nightly wet his sleepless 
couch. At this moment the blaze of the telegraphic 
beacon bursts upon his sight, and he hastens in ec- 
stasy to acquaint the queen with the glad tidings. 

The Chorus, composed of aged inhabitants of Ar- 
gos, now enter, bewailing the helplessness of their 
withered years, by which they are compelled to 
crawl listlessly through the streets of the city, while 
their king and countrymen are fighting gloriously at 
Troy, to avenge the wrongs of Menelaus. Pre- 
sently they perceive the altars of their tutelary gods 
loaded with victims and offerings of thanksgiving, 
by order of the queen, and filled with a divine affla- 
tus their spirits rise, as they celebrate in lyric 
strains the omen which appeared to the two Atridse 
on their march against Troy. Two eagles, both of 
darkest plumage, but one having its dusky pinions 
fringed with white, were seen bearing a pregnant 
hare towards the palace at Argos. The seizure of the 
hare by the two eagles, is interpreted, by the augur 
Calchas, to signify the capture of the devoted city by 
the royal brothers ; but because the hare was preg- 
nant, he fears that the wrath of Diana is portended, 
under whose protection, as goddess of the chase, 
the young of all wild animals was specially placed. 
This part of the prediction points to the delay at Aulis. 

The Chorus, having detailed the augury of Calchas, 
now assumes its proper office, and commencing with 
a solemn invocation of the King of Gods and men, 
by whatsoever name they may " express him un- 
blamed ", proceeds with that solemn ode which in 
the following pages has been assumed as the open- 
ing of the drama. 



THE AGAMEMNON OF AESCHYLUS. 59 

Scene. — The Area, or court before the royal palace at Argos. 



CHORUS— singing. 
Strophe 1. 

O thou, that sitt'st supreme above, 

Whatever name thou deign'st to hear, 
Unblam'd may I pronounce thee Jove ! 
Immers'd in deep and holy thought, 
If rightly I conjecture aught, 

Thy pow'r I must revere : 
Else vainly tost the anxious mind 
Nor truth, nor calm repose can find. 
Feeble and helpless to the light 

The proudest of man's race arose, 
Though now, exulting in his might, 

Dauntless he rushes on his foes ; 
Great as he is, in dust he lies ; 
He meets a greater, and he dies. 

Antistrophe 1. 

He that when conquest brightens round, 

Swells the triumphal strain to Jove, 
Shall ever with success be crown'd ; 
Yet often, when to wisdom's seat 
Jove deigns to guide man's erring feet, 

His virtues to improve, 
He to affliction gives command 
To form him with her chast'ning hand : 
The memory of her rigid lore, 
On the sad heart imprinted deep, 



60 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Attends him through day's active hour, 

Nor in the night forsakes his sleep. 
Instructed thus thy grace we own, 
O thou, that sitt'st on heav'n's high throne ! 
Stro. 2. When now in Aulis' rolling bay 

His course the refluent flood refus'd, 
And sick'ning with inaction lay 
In dead repose th' exhausted train, 
Did the firm chief of chance complain ? 

No prophet he accus'd ; 
His eyes towards Chalcis bent, he stood, 
And silent mark'd the surging flood. 
Sullen the winds from Strymon sweep, 

Mischance and famine in the blast, 
Ceaseless torment the angry deep, 

The cordage rend, the vessels waste, 
With tedious and severe delay 
Wear the fresh flower of Greece away. 
Antis. 2. When, in Diana's name, the seer 

Pronounc'd the dreadful remedy 
More than the stormy sea severe, 
Each chieftain stood in grief profound, 
And smote his sceptre on the ground : 

Then with a rising sigh 
The monarch, whilst the big tears roll, 
Express'd the anguish of his soul ; 
" Dreadful the sentence : not t' obey, 

Vengeance and ruin close us round : 
Shall then the sire his daughter slay, 

In youth's fresh bloom with beauty crown'd ? 
Shall on these hands her warm blood flow ? 
Cruel alternative of woe ! 
Stro. 3. This royal fleet, this martial host, 

The cause of Greece, shall I betray, 



THE AGAMEMNON OF /ESCHYLUS. 61 

The monarch in the father lost ? 

To calm these winds, to smooth this flood, 

Diana's wrath a virgin's blood 

Demands : 'tis our's t' obey." 
Bound in fate's adamantine chain 
Reluctant nature strives in vain : 
Impure, unholy thoughts succeed, 

And dark'ning o'er his bosom roll ; 
Whilst madness prompts the ruthless deed, 
Tyrant of the misguided soul : 
Stern on the fleet he rolls his eyes, 
And dooms the hateful sacrifice. 
Antis. 3. Arm'd in a woman's cause, around 

Fierce for the war the princes rose ; 
No place affrighted pity found. 
In vain the virgin's streaming tear, 
Her cries in vain, her pleading pray'r, 

Her agonizing woes. 
Could the fond father hear unmov'd ? 
The Fates decreed : the king approv'd : 
Then to th' attendants gave command 

Decent her flowing robes to bind ; 
Prone on the altar with strong hand 

To place her, like a spotless hind ; 
And check her sweet voice, that no sound 
Unhallow'd might the rites confound. 

Epode. 

Rent on the earth her maiden veil she throws 
That emulates the rose ; 

And on the sad attendants rolling 
The trembling lustre of her dewy eyes, 

Their grief-impassion'd souls controlling, 



62 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

That ennobled, modest grace, 
Which the mimic pencil tries 
In the imag'd form to trace, 

The breathing picture shows : 
And as, amidst his festal pleasures, 

Her father oft rejoic'd to hear 
Her voice in soft mellifluous measures 
Warble the sprightly-fancied air — 
So now in act to speak the virgin stands ; 
But when, the third libation paid, 

She heard her father's dread commands 
Enjoining silence, she obey'd : 
And for her country's good, 
With patient, meek, submissive mind 

To her hard fate resign'd, 
Pour'd out the rich stream of her blood. 
What since hath past I know not, nor relate ; 

But never did the prophet speak in vain, 
Th' afflicted, anxious for his future fate, 

Looks forward, and with hope relieves his 
pain. 
But since th' inevitable ill will come, 

Much knowledge to much misery is allied ; 
Why strive we then t' anticipate the doom, 
Which happiness and wisdom wish to hide '( 

Enter Clytemnestra. 

Clytemnestra, Chorus. 

Chor. With reverence, Clytemnestra, I approach 
Thy greatness ; honour due to her that fills 
The royal seat, yet vacant of its lord. 
If aught of glad import hath reach'd thy ear, 



THE AGAMEMNON OF AESCHYLUS. 63 

Or to fair hope the victim bleeds *, I wish, 
But with submission to thy will, to hear. 

Clyt. The joy-imparting morn springs, as they say, 
From night, her mother. Thou shalt hear a joy 
Beyond thy utmost hope : the town of Priam 
Is fall'n beneath the conquering arms of Greece. 

Chor. How long hath ruin crush'd this haughty city ? 

Clyt. This night, that gave this infant morning 
birth. 

Chor. What speed could be the herald of this news ? 

Clyt. The fire, that from the height of Ida sent 
Its streaming light, as from th' announcing flame 
Torch blaz'd to torch. First Ida to the steep 
Of Lemnos ; Athos' sacred height receiv'd 
The mighty splendor ; from the surging back 
Of Hellespont the vig'rous blaze held on 
Its smiling way, and like the orient sun 
Illumes with golden-gleaming rays the head 
Of rocky Macetas ; nor lingers there, 
Nor winks unheedful, but its warning flames 
Darts to Euripus' fitful stream, and gives 
Its glitt'ring signal to the guards that hold 
Their high watch on Mesapius. These enkindle 
The joy-announcing fires, that spread the blaze 
To where Erica hoar its shaggy brow 
Waves rudely. Unimpair'd the active flame 
Bounds o'er the level of Asopus, like 
The jocund Moon, and on Cithaeron's steep 
Wakes a successive flame ; the distant watch 
Discern its gleam, and raise a brighter fire, 
That o'er the lake Gorgopis streaming holds 

* On hearing good tidings, even though the report was uncer- 
tain, it was usual among the Greeks to sacrifice to Good Hope, and 
to send a share of the victim to their friends. 



64 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Its rapid course, and on the mountainous heights 
Of iEgiplanctus huge, swift- shooting spreads 
The lengthen'd line of light. Thence onwards 

waves 
Its fiery tresses, eager to ascend 
The crags of Prone, frowning in their pride 
O'er the Saronic gulf: it leaps, it mounts 
The summit of Arachne, whose high head 
Looks down on Argos : to this royal seat 
Thence darts the light that from th' Idaean fire 
Derives its birth. Rightly in order thus 
Each to the next consigns the torch, that fills 
The bright succession, whilst the first in speed 
Vies w T ith the last : the promis'd signal this 
Giv'n by my lord t' announce the fall of Troy. 

Clytemnestra proceeds, at the desire of the chorus, 
to detail the various calamities of the captured city, 
and concludes with a solemn wish, that the victorious 
Greeks may not be tempted by their conquest to 
indulge in any excess or violation of the sacred 
laws ; while by her earnest deprecation of any ill 
befalling their return, she darkly intimates the 
" foregone conclusion " which was already working 
in the recesses of her guilty mind. 

The chorus however ascribe all to her pious 
anxiety for the safety of her husband, and reply in 
the following noble hymn of thanksgiving. 

Prosode. 

Supreme of kings, Jove ; and thou, friendly 
Night, 
That wide o'er heav'n's star-spangled plain 
H oldest thy awful reign— 



THE AGAMEMNON OF AESCHYLUS. 65 

Thou, that with resistless might 
O'er Troy's proud tow'rs, and destin'd state, 
Hast thrown the secret net of fate, 
In whose enormous sweep the young, the old, 

Without distinction roll'd, 
Are with unsparing fury dragg'd away 

To slavery and woe a prey : 
Thee, hospitable Jove, whose vengeful pow'r 
These terrors o'er the foe hath spread, 
Thy bow long bent at Paris' head, 
Whose arrows know their time to fly, 
Not hurtling aimless in the sky, 
Our pious strains adore. 

Strophe 1. 

The hand of Jove will they not own ; 

And, as his marks they trace, 
Confess he will'd, and it was done ? 

Who now of earth-born race 
Shall dare contend that his high pow'r 

Deigns not with eye severe to view 
The wretch, that tramples on his law ? 

Hence with this impious lore : 
Learn that the sons accurs'd shall rue 

The madly daring father's pride, 
That furious drew th' unrighteous sw r ord, 
High in his house the rich spoils stor'd, 

And the avenging Gods defied. 
But be it mine to draw 
From wisdom's fount, pure as it flows, 
That calm of soul, which virtue only knows. 
For vain the shield, that wealth shall spread, 
To guard the proud oppressor's head, 

F 



66 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Who dares the rights of Justice to confound, 
And spurn her altars to the ground. 

Antistrophe 1. 

Seductive is the voice of vice 

That spreads th' insidious snare : 
She, not conceal'd, thro' her disguise 

Emits a livid glare. 
Her vot'ry, like adult'rate brass 

Unfaithful to its use, unsound, 
Proves the dark baseness of his soul ; 

Fond as a boy to chase 
The winged bird light-flitting round, 

And bent on his pernicious play 
Draws desolation on his state. 
His vows no God regards, when Fate 

In vengeance sweeps the wretch away. 
With base intent and foul, 
Each hospitable law defied, 
From Sparta's king thus Paris stole his bride* 
To Greece she left the shield, the spear, 
The naval armament of war ; 
And, bold in ill, to Troy's devoted shore 
Destruction for her dow'ry bore. 
Stro. 2. When through the gates her easy way 

She took, his pensive breast 
Each prophet smote in deep dismay, 

And thus his grief exprest, 
" What woes this royal mansion threat, 

This mansion, and its mighty lord ? 
Where now the chaste connubial bed ? 

The traces of her feet, 
By love to her blest consort led, 

Where now ? Ah, silent, see, she stands ; 



THE AGAMEMNON OF jESCHYLUS. 67 

Each glowing tint, each radiant grace, 
That charm th' enraptur'd eye, we trace ; 
And still the blooming form commands, 
Still honour'd, still ador'd, 
Though careless of her former loves 
Far o'er the rolling sea the wanton roves : 
The husband, with a bursting sigh, 
Turns from the pictur'd fair his eye ; 
Whilst love, by absence fed, without control 
Tumultuous rushes on his soul. 
Antis. 2. Oft as short slumbers close his eyes, 
His sad soul sooth'd to rest, 
The dream-created visions rise, 
With all her charms imprest : 
But vain th' ideal scene, that smiles 
With rapt'rous love and warm delight ; 
Vain his fond hopes : his eager arms 
The fleeting form beguiles, 
On sleep's quick pinions passing light." 
Such griefs, and more severe than these, 
Their sad gloom o'er the palace spread ; 
Thence stretch their melancholy shade, 
And darken o'er the realms of Greece. 

Struck with no false alarms 
Each house its home-felt sorrow knows, 
Each bleeding heart is pierc'd with keenest woes ; 
When for the hero, sent to share 
The glories of the crimson war, 
Nought, save his arms stain'd with their mas- 
ter's gore, 
And his cold ashes reach the shore. 
Stro, 3. Thus in the dire exchange of war 
Does Mars the balance hold ; 



68 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Helms are the scales, the beam a spear, 

And blood is weigh'd for gold. 
Thus, for the warrior, to his friends 

His sad remains, a poor return, 
Sav'd from the sullen fire that rose 

On Troy's curst shore, he sends, 
Plac'd decent in the mournful urn. 

With many a tear their dead they weep, 
Their names with many a praise resound ; 
One for his skill in arms renown' d ; 

One, that amidst the slaughter'd heap 
Of fierce conflicting foes 
Glorious in beauty's cause he fell : 
Yet 'gainst th' avenging chiefs their murmurs 

swell 
In silence. Some in youth's fresh bloom 
Beneath Troy's tow'rs possess a tomb ; 
Their bodies buried on the distant strand, 
Seizing in death the hostile land. 
Antis. 3. How dreadful, when the people raise 

Loud murmurs mix'd with hate ! 
Yet this the tribute greatness pays 

For its exalted state. 
E'en now some dark and horrid deed 

By my presaging soul is fear'd ; 
For never with unheedful eyes, 

When slaughter'd thousands bleed, 
Did the just powers of heav'n regard 

The carnage of th' ensanguin'd plain. 
The ruthless and oppressive pow'r 
May triumph for its little hour ; 

Full soon with all their vengeful train 
The sullen Furies rise, 






THE AGAMEMNON OF iESCHYLUS. 69 

Break his fell force, and whirl him down 
Thro' life's dark path, unpitied, and unknown. 
And dangerous is the pride of fame, 
Like the red light'ning's dazzling flame. 
Nor envied wealth, nor conquest let me gain, 
Nor drag the conqueror's hateful chain. 

Epode. 

But from these fires far streaming through the 
night 
Fame through the town her progress takes, 
And rapt'rous joy awakes ; 
If with truth's auspicious light 
They shine, who knows ? Her sacred reign 
Nor fraud, nor falsehood dares profane. 
But who, in wisdom's school so lightly taught, 

Suffers his ardent thought 
From these informing flames to catch the fire, 

Full soon perchance in grief t' expire ? 
Yet when a woman holds the sovereign sway, 
Obsequious wisdom learns to bow, 
And hails the joy it does not know ; 
Though, as the glitt'ring visions roll 
Before her easy, credulous soul, 
Their glories fade away. 
t. Whether these fires, that with successive sig- 
nals 
Blaze through the night, be true, or like a dream 
Play with a sweet delusion on the soul, 
Soon shall we know. A herald from the shore 
I see ; branches of olive shade his brows. 
His dusty garb assures me whence he comes, 
And that with living voice, and not by flames 
Along the mountains kindled, he will signify 



70 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

His message ; yes ; his tongue shall greet our 

ears 
With words of joy : far from my soul the 

thought 
Of other, than confirm these fav'ring signals. 

Enter Herald. 

Clytemnestra, Chorus, Herald. 

Her. Hail, thou paternal soil of Argive earth ! 
In the fair light of the tenth year to thee 
Return'd, from the sad wreck of many hopes 
This one I save ; sav'd from despair e'en this ; 
For never thought I in this honour'd earth 
To share in death the portion of a tomb. 
Hail then, lov'd earth ; hail, thou bright sun ; 

and thou, 
Great guardian of my country, Jove supreme ; 
Thou, Pythian king, thy shafts no longer 

wing'd 
For our destruction*; on Scamander's banks 
Enough we mourn'd thy wrath ; propitious now 
Come, king Apollo, our defence. And all 
Ye Gods, that o'er the works of war preside, 
I now invoke ; thee, Mercury, my avenger, 
Rever'd by heralds, that from thee derive 
Their high employ ; you heroes, to the war 
That sent us, friendly now receive our troops, 
The relics of the spear. Imperial walls, 
Mansion of kings, ye seats revered ; ye Gods, 
That to the golden sun before these gates 
Present your honour'd forms ; if e'er of old 

* In allusion to the pestilence inflicted by the death-bearing 
arrows of Apollo, as told in the 51st line of the first Iliad. 



THE AGAMEMNON OF .ESCHYLUS. 71 

Those eyes with favour have beheld the king, 
Receive him now, after this length of time, 
With glory ; for he comes, and with him brings 
To you, and all, a light that cheers this gloom : 
Then greet him well ; such honour is his 

meed, 
The mighty king, that with the mace of Jove 
Th' avenger, wherewith he subdues the earth, 
Hath levell'd with the dust the towers of 

Troy; 
Their altars are o'erturn'd, their sacred shrines, 
And all the race destroy'd. This iron yoke 
Fix'd on the neck of Troy, victorious comes 
The great Atrides, of all mortal men 
Worthy of highest honours. Paris now, 
And the perfidious state, shall boast no more 
His proud deeds unreveng'd : stript of his 

spoils, 
The debt of justice for his thefts, his rapines, 
Paid amply, o'er his father's house he spreads 
With twofold loss the wide-involving ruin. 
Clyt. Hail to thee, herald of the Argive host ! 
Heraed. The conflict is well ended. In the tide 
Of so long time, if 'midst the easy flow 
Of wislrd events some tyrannous blast assail us, 
What marvel ? Who, save the blest Gods, can 

claim 
Through life's whole course an unmixed happi- 
ness ? 
Should I relate our toils, our WTetched plight 
Wedg'd in our narrow ill-provided cabins, 
Each irksome hour was loaded with fatigues. 
Yet these were slight assays to those worse 
hardships 



GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

We suffer'd on the shore : our lodging near 
The walls of the enemy, the dews of heav'n 
Fell on us from above, the damps beneath 
From the moist marsh annoy'd us, shrouded ill 
In shaggy covrings. Or should one relate 
The winter's keen blasts, which from Ida's 

snows 
Breathe frore, that pierc'd through all their 

plumes the birds 
Shiver and die ; or th' extreme heat that scalds, 
When in his mid-day caves the sea reclines, 
And not a breeze disturbs his calm repose. 
But why lament these sufferings ? They are 

past; 
Past to the dead indeed ; they lie, no more 
Anxious to rise. What then avails to count 
Those, whom the wasteful war hath swept 

away, 
And with their loss afflict the living ? Rather 
Bid we farewell to misery : in our scale, 
Who haply of the Grecian host remain, 
The good preponderates, and in counterpoise 
Our loss is light : and, after all our toils 
By sea and land, before yon golden sun 
It is our glorious privilege to boast, 
" At length from vanquish'd Troy our warlike 

troops 
Have to the Gods of Greece brought home 

these spoils, 
And in their Temples, to record our con- 
quests, 
Fix'd these proud trophies." Those, that hear 

this boast, 
It well becomes to gratulate the state, 



THE AGAMEMNON OF AESCHYLUS. id 

And the brave chiefs ; revering Jove's high 

pow'r 
That grac'd our conquering arms. Thou hast 
my message. 
Chor. Thy words convince me ; all my doubts are 

vanished. 
Clyt. Long since my voice raised high each note 

When through the night the streaming blaze 

first came, 
That told us Troy was taken : — not unblamed 
The while: — "what! doth a mountain fire 

transport 
Thy soul with the fond hope that Ilion's tow'rs 
Are humbled in the dust ? O woman's heart, 
Thus lightly credulous!" At this rebuke 
Though somewhat shaken, yet I sacrificed ; 
And, as weak women wont, one voice of joy 
Awoke another, till the city rang 
Through all its streets ; and at the hallow'd 

shrines 
Each raised the pious strains of gratitude, 
And fann'd the altars' incence-breathing name. 
But it is needless to detain thee longer, 
Soon from the king's own lips shall I learn all. 
How best I may receive my honour'd lord, 
And grace his wish'd return, now claims my 

speed. 
Can heav'n's fair beam shew a fond wife a 

sight 
More grateful than her husband from his wars 
Return'd with glory, when she opes the gate, 
And springs to welcome him ? Tell my lord 

this, 



74 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

That he may hasten his desired return : 
And tell him he will find his faithful wife, 
Such as he left her, a domestic creature 
To him all fondness, to his enemies 
Irreconcileable ; and tell him too 
That ten long years have not effaced the seal 
Of constancy, that never knew delight 
In guilty commerce with another man ; 
More than the virgin metal in the mine 
Knows an adulterate and debasing mixture. 

Exit. 

On Clytemnestra leaving the stage, the Chorus 
questions the herald more minutely concerning 
the safety and return of King Agamemnon, and 
learns that immediately on the departure of the 
fleet from Troy, a dreadful storm arose, which dis- 
persed the vessels, but that the ship in which the 
herald sailed, providentially rode out the gale. At 
the dawn of light, the crew descry the surface of 
the chafed iEgean strewn with floating wrecks and 
corpses. Still they hope and trust that the gods 
had preserved their monarch, whom they deemed 
the peculiar care of Jove. 

Accordingly, at the close of the succeeding ode, 
which the Chorus sings on hearing the narrative of 
the herald, Agamemnon enters ; his ship, guided by 
favouring fortune, having gained the port. The de- 
sign of this incident of the tempest, seems to have 
been to account in some measure for the sudden ap- 
pearance of Agamemnon at Argos, the very day 
after the fall of Troy. We shall however take oc- 
casion hereafter to shew, that the common opinion 
of a strict observance of the unities of time and 



THE AGAMEMNON OF jESCHYLUS. 40 

place being a characteristic of the Greek drama, is 
destitute of any foundation in truth. 

Chorus. 

Stro. 1. Is there to names a charm profound 
Expressive of their fates assign'd, 
Mysterious potency of sound, 
And truth in wond'rous accord join'd ? 
Why else this fatal name, 
That Helen and destruction are the same ? * 
Affianced in contention, led, 
The spear her dow'ry, to the bridal bed ; 

With desolation in her train, 
Fatal to martial hosts, to rampir'd towers, 
From the rich fragrance of her gorgeous 
bowers, 

Descending to the main, 
She hastes to spread her flying sails, 
And calls the earth-born zephyr's gales, 
Whilst heroes, breathing vengeance, snatch 
their shields, 
And trace her light oars o'er the pathless 
waves, 
To the thick shades fresh waving o'er those 
fields, 
Which Simois with his silver windings laves. 

Antis. 1. 

To Troy the smiling mischief f came, 
Before her bright-eyed pleasures play, 

* The name Helen signifies the Destroyer, and it was then a 
universal opinion that names contained in them some presage, or 
secret reference to the character of the individual who bore them. 
There is a curious instance of this in the Ajax of Sophocles. 

t Helen. 



76 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

But in the rear with stedfast aim 

Grim visaged vengeance marks his prey, 
Waiting the dreadful hour 
The terrors of offended Heaven to pour 
On those that dared, an impious train, 
The rights of hospitable Jove profane ; 

Nor revered that sacred song, 
Whose melting strains the bride's approach de- 
clare, 
As Hymen wakes the rapture-breathing air, 
Far other notes belong, 
The voice of mirth now heard no more, 
To Priam's state : its ruins o'er 
Wailing instead, distress, and loud lament ; 

Long sorrows sprung from that unholy bed, 
And many a curse in heart-felt anguish sent 
On its woe-wedded Paris' hated head. 
Stro. 2. The woodman, from his thirsty lair, 
Reft of his dam, a lion bore ; 
Foster'd his future foe with care 

To mischiefs he must soon deplore : 
Gentle and tame, whilst young, 
Harmless he frisk'd the fondling babes among ; 
Oft in the father's bosom lay, 
Oft lick'd his feeding hand in fawning play ; 

Till, conscious of his firmer age, 
His lion-race the lordly savage shows ; 
No more his youth-protecting cottage knows, 
But with insatiate rage 
Flies on the flocks, a baleful guest, 
And riots in th' unbidden feast : 
Whilst through his mangled folds the hapless 
swain 
With horror sees the unbounded carnage 
spread ; 



THE AGAMEMNON OF AESCHYLUS. / / 

And learns too late from th' infernal reign 
A priest of Ate * in his house was bred. 
Antis. 2. To Ilion's towers in wanton state 

With speed she wings her easy way ; 
Soft gales obedient round her wait, 
And pant on the delighted sea. 
Attendant on her side 
The richest ornaments of splendid pride : 
The darts, whose golden points inspire, 
Shot from her eyes, the flames of soft desire ; 

The youthful bloom of rosy love, 
That fills with ecstasy the willing soul ; 
With duteous zeal obey her sweet control. 
But, such the doom of Jove, 
Vindictive round her nuptial bed, 
With threat'ning mien and footstep dread, 
Rushes, to Priam and his state severe, 

To rend the bleeding; heart his stern delight, 
And from the bridal eye to force the tear, 
Erinnys -j~, rising from the realms of night. 
Epod. From every mouth we oft have heard 
This saying, for its age revered ; 
" With joy we see our offspring rise, 
And happy, who not childless dies : 
But fortune, when her flowerets blow, 
Oft bears the bitter fruit of woe." 
Though these saws are as truths allow'd, 
Thus I dare differ from the crowd, 

* In the Greek mythology the goddess of all evil. 

f The Furies, or supposed ministers of the vengeance of the 
gods in the Greek mythology, were, in their sterner attributes, 
known by the name of Erynnies, in their gentler, by that of the 
Eumcnides. In the latter capacity they will appear as giving a 
name to one of the Tragedies in the present volume. 



fO GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

" One base deed, with prolific power, 
Like its curst stock engenders more : 
But to the just, with blooming grace 
Still flourishes, a beauteous race." 

The old injustice joys to breed 
Her young, instinct with villainous deed ; 
The young her destined hour will find 
To rush in mischief on mankind : 
She too in Ate's murky cell, 
Brings forth the hideous child of hell, 
A burden to the offended sky, 
The power of bold impiety. 

But Justice bids her ray divine 
E'en on the low-roof 'd cottage shine ; 
And beams her glories on the life, 
That knows not fraud, nor ruffian strife. 
The gorgeous glare of gold, obtain'd 
By foul polluted hands, disdain'd 
She leaves, and with averted eyes 
To humbler, holier mansions flies ; 
And looking through the times to come 
Assigns each deed its righteous doom. 

Enter Agamemnon, 

Chorus, Agamemnon. 

Chor. My royal lord, by whose victorious hand 
The towers of Troy are fall'n, illustrious son 
Of Atreus, with what words, what reverence 
Shall I address thee, not to o'erleap the bounds 
Of modest duty, nor to sink beneath 
An honourable welcome ? Some there are, 
That form themselves to seem, more than to be, 
Transgressing honesty : to him that feels 



THE AGAMEMNON OF JESCHYLUS. 79 

Misfortune's rugged hand, full many a tongue 
Shall drop condolence, though th' unfeeling heart 
Knows not the touch of sorrow ; these again 
In fortune's summer gale with the like art 
Shall dress in forced smiles the unwilling face : 
But him the penetrating eye soon marks, 
That in the seemly garb of honest zeal 
Attempts to clothe his meagre blandishments. 
When first in Helen's cause my royal lord 
Levied his host, let me not hide the truth, 
Notes, other than of music, echoed wide 
In loud complaints from such as deem'd him 

rash, 
And void of reason, by constraint to plant 
In breasts averse the martial soul, that glows 
Despising death. But now their eager zeal 
Streams friendly to those chiefs, whose pros- 
perous valour 
Is crown'd with conquest. Soon then shalt 

thou learn, 
As each supports the state, or strives to rend it 
With faction, who reveres thy dignity. 
Agam. To Argos first, and to my country Gods, 
I bow with reverence, by whose holy guidance 
On Troy's proud towers I pour'd their righte- 
ous vengeance, 
And now revisit safe my native soil. 
No loud-tongued pleader heard, they judged 

the cause, 
And in the bloody urn * without one vote 

* Judgment was anciently given by ballot, each person who 
had a voice in the decision being furnished with a shell, which he 
cast into the acquitting or condemning urn, according as he deemed 
the accused party innocent or guilty ; a majority of votes deter- 



SO GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Dissentient, cast the lots that fix'd the fate 
Of Ilion and its sons : the other vase 
Left empty, save of widow'd hope. The smoke, 
Rolling in dusky wreaths, shows that the town 
Is fall'ii ; the fiery storm yet lives, and high 
The dying ashes toss rich clouds of wealth 
Consumed. For this behoves us to the Gods 
To render grateful thanks, and that they 

spread 
The net of fate sweeping with angry ruin. 
In beauty's cause the Argive monster * rear'd 
Its bulk enormous, to th' affrighted town 
Portending devastation ; in its womb 
Hiding embattled hosts, rush'd furious forth, 
About the setting of the Pleiades, 
And, as a lion rav'ning for its prey, 
Ramp'd o'er their walls, and lapp'd the blood 

of kings. 
This to the Gods address'd, I turn me now 
Attentive to thy caution : I approve 
Thy just remark, and with my voice confirm it. 
Few have the fortitude of soul to honour 
A friend's success, without a touch of envy ; 
For that malignant passion to the heart 
Cleaves close, and with a double burden loads 
The man infected with it : first he feels 
In all their weight his own calamities, 
Then sighs to see the happiness of others. 
This of my own experience have I learn'd ; 
And this I know, that many, who in public 
Have borne the semblance of my firmest friends, 

mined the cause. Farther on the reader will see the forms at large, 
in the trial of Orestes in the Furies. 
* The wooden horse. 



THE AGAMEMNON OF iESCHYLUS. 81 

Are but the flatt'ring image of a shadow 
Reflected from a mirror : save Ulysses, 
Alone, who, though averse to join our arms, 
Yoked in his martial harness, from my side 
Swerved not ; living or dead be this his praise. 
But what concerns our kingdom and the Gods, 
Holding a general council of the state, 
We will consult ; that what is well may keep 
Its goodness permanent, and what requires 
Our healing hand, with mild severity 
May be corrected. But my royal roof 
Now will I visit, and before its hearths 
Offer libations to the gods, who sent me 
To this far distant war, and led me back. 
Firm stands the victory that attends our arms. 

Enter Clytemnestra. 

Clytemnestra, Agamemnon, Chorus. 

Clyt. Friends, fellow-citizens, whose counsels guide 
The state of Argos, in your reverend presence 
A wife's fond love I blush not to disclose : 
Thus habit softens dread. From my full heart 
Will I recount my melancholy life 
Through the long stay of my loved lord at Troy : 
For a weak woman, in her husband's absence, 
Pensive to sit and lonely in her house, 
J Tis dismal, list'ning to each frightful tale : 
First one alarms her, then another comes 
Charged with worse tidings. Had my poor 

lord here 
Suffer'd as many wounds as common fame 
Reported, like a net he had been pierced : 

G 



82 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Had he been slain oft as the loud-tongued 

rumour 
Was noised abroad, this Geryon * triple -form'd, 
A second of the name, whilst yet alive, 
For of the dead I speak not, well might boast 
To have received his triple mail, to die 
In each form singly. Such reports oppress'd me, 
Till life became distasteful, and my hands 
Were prompted oft to deeds of desperation. 
Nor is thy son Orestes, the dear tie 
That binds us each to th' other, present here 
To aid me, as he ought : nay, marvel not, 
The friendly Strophius with a right strong arm 
Protects him in Phocsea ; whilst his care 
Saw danger threaten in a double form, 
The loss of thee at Troy, the anarchy 
That might ensue, should madness drive the 

people 
To deeds of violence, as men are prompt 
Insultingly to trample on the fall'n : 
Such care dwells not with fraud. At thy return 
The gushing fountains of my tears are dried, 
Save that my eyes are weak with midnight 

watchings, 
Straining, through tears, if haply they might see 
Thy signal fires, that claim'd my fix'd atten- 
tion. 
If they were closed in sleep, a silly fly 
Y>'ould, with its slightest murm'rings, make me 
start, 

* Geryon v;as a king of Spain, fabled to have three bodies, 
because he had three armies commanded by his three sons ; he 
was killed by Hercules, 



THE AGAMEMNON OF .ESCIIYLUS. 83 

And wake me to more fears. For thy dear sake 

All this I suffer 'd : but my jocund heart 

Forgets it all, whilst I behold my lord, 

My guardian, the strong anchor of my hope, 

The stately column that supports my house, 

Dear as an only child to a fond parent ; 

Welcome as land, which the tost mariner 

Beyond his hope descries : welcome as day 

After a night of storms with fairer beams 

Returning ; welcome as the liquid lapse 

Of fountain to the thirsty traveller : 

So pleasant is it to escape the chain 

Of hard constraint. Such greeting I esteem 

Due to thy honour : let it not offend, 

For I have suffer' d much. But, my loved lord, 

Leave now that car ; nor on the bare ground set 

That royal foot, beneath whose mighty tread 

Troy trembled. Haste, ye virgins, to whose 

care 
This pleasing office is entrusted, spread 
The streets with tapestry ; let the ground be 

cover'd 
With richest purple, leading to the palace ; 
That honour with just state may grace his 

entry, 
Though unexpected. My attentive care, 
Shall, if the Gods permit, dispose the rest 
To welcome his high glories, as I ought. 
A gam. Daughter of Leda, guardian of my house, 
Thy words are correspondent to my absence, 
Of no small length. With better grace my 

praise 
Would come from others : soothe me not with 

strains 



84 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Of adulation, as a girl ; nor raise, 
As to some proud barbaric king, that loves 
Loud acclamations echoed from the mouths 
Of prostrate worshippers, a clamorous wel- 
come : 
Nor spread the streets with tapestry ; 'tis in- 
vidious ; 
These are the honours we should pay the Gods. 
For mortal man to tread on ornaments 
Of rich embroid'ry — No : I dare not do it : 
Respect me as a man, not as a God. 
Why should my foot pollute these vests, that 

glow 
With various tinctured radiance ? My full fame 
Swells high without it ; and the temperate rule 
Of cool discretion is the choicest gift 
Of fav'ring Heaven. Happy the man, whose life 
Is spent in friendship's calm security. 
These sober joys be mine, I ask no more. 
Clyt. Do not thou thwart the purpose of my mind. 
Agam. Art thou so earnest to obtain thy wish ? 
Clyt. Let me prevail : indulge me with this con- 
quest. 
Agam. If such thy will, haste some one, from my 
feet 
Unloose these high-bound buskins, lest some 

God 
Look down indignant, if with them I press 
These vests sea-tinctur'd : shame it were to 

spoil 
With unclean tread their rich and costly tex- 
ture. 
Of these enough. — This stranger, let her find 
A gentle treatment : from high heaven the God 



THE AGAMEMNON OF JESCHYLUS. 85 

Looks with an eye of favour on the victor 
That bears his high state meekly ; for none 

wears 
Of his free choice the yoke of slavery. 
And she, of many treasures the prime flower 
Selected by the troops, has follow'd me. 

Clytemnestra, stung perhaps by this affectionate 
recommendation of Cassandra, replies in terms of 
seeming congratulation and respect for her husband's 
power and prowess, but clokes under this veil of 
adulation a prayer for the accomplishment of her 
secret wishes for his destruction. Hereupon the 
Chorus, though still unconscious of her design, 
rapt and inspired with prophetic visions of ap- 
proaching calamity, utters the following woe-de- 
nouncing strain : 



Stro. 1. What may this mean ? Along the skies 
Why do these dreadful portents roll ? 
Visions of terror, spare my aching eyes, 
Nor shake my sad presaging soul ! 
In accents dread, not tuned in vain, 
Why bursts the free, unbidden strain ? 
These are no phantoms of the night, 
That vanish at the faithful light 
Of steadfast confidence. Thou sober power, 
Whither, ah, whither art thou gone ? 

For since the long passed hour, 
When first for Troy the naval band 
Unmoor'd their vessels from the strand, 
Thou hast not in my bosom fix'd thy throne. 



86 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Antes. 1. At length they come : these faithful 
eyes, 
See them return'd to Greece again : 
Yet, while the sullen lyre in silence lies, 
Erinnys wakes the mournful strain : 
Her dreadful powers possess my soul, 
And bid the untaught measures roll : 
Swell in rude notes the dismal lay, 
And fright enchanting hope away ; 
Whilst, ominous of ill, grim-visaged care 

Incessant whirls my tortured heart. 
Vain be each anxious fear ! 

Return, fair hope, thy seat resume, 
Dispel this melancholy gloom, 
And to my soul thy gladsome light impart ! 
Stro. 2. Ah me, what hope ! this mortal state 
Nothing but cruel change can know. 
Should cheerful health our vig'rous steps await, 
Enkindling all her" roseate glow ; 
Disease creeps on with silent pace, 
And withers ev'ry blooming grace. 
Proud sails the bark ; the fresh gales breathe, 
And dash her on the rocks beneath. 
In the rich house her treasures plenty pours : 
Comes sloth, and from her well-poised sling 

Scatters the piled up stores. 
Disease yet makes not all her prey : 
Nor sinks the bark beneath the sea : 
And famine sees the heaven-sent harvest spring. 
Antis. 2. But when forth- welling from the wound 
The purple-streaming blood shall fall, 
And the warm tide distain the reeking ground, 
Who shall the vanish'd life recal ? 



THE AGAMEMNON OF /ESCHYLUS. 87 

Nor verse, nor music's magic pow'r, 
Nor the fam'd leech's * boasted lore ; 
Not that his art restored the dead, 
Jove's thunder burst upon his head. — 

But that the Fates forbid, and chain my tongue, 
My heart, at inspiration's call, 

Would the rapt strain prolong : 
Now all is dark ; it raves in vain, 
And, as it pants with trembling pain, 

Desponding feels its fiery transports fall. 

Clytemnestra, Cassandra, Chorus. 

Clyt. Thou, too, Cassandra, enter ; since high Jove, 
Gracious to thee, hath placed thee in this house, 
With many slaves to share the common rites, 
And deck the altar of the fav'ring God, 
Come from that chariot, and let temperance rule 
Thy lofty spirit ; e'en Alcmena's son -j~, 
Sold as a slave, submitted to the yoke 

* JEsculapius, son of Apollo, and inventor of Medicine. Pluto 
complained of him, as Death did of Burns's Doctor Hornbook, that 
he restored his patients even after the fatal dart had been launched 
against them ; whereupon, as the poets tell, Jupiter struck him with 
thunder that he died. 

f Hercules : he had wantonly murdered Iphitus son of Eurytus 
king of CEchalia, some say in a fit of insanity produced by love of 
the youth's sister. In punishment of this crime the Gods inflicted a 
disease upon him, from which finding no relief by ordinary means, 
he consulted the oracle of Apollo, and was commanded to sell 
himself for a slave, and to send the purchase money to the family 
of Iphitus. In compliance with the voice of the god, he prevailed 
upon Mercury to sell him to Omphale queen of Maeonia, in Asia 
Minor. The story of their loves and her correction of the hero 
with her slipper, is probably familiar to the reader. This is perhaps 
one of the earliest notices we have of a were-gild, eruic, or fine for 
homicide, paid to the relations of the murdered party. 



88 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Perforce ; and if necessity's hard hand 
Hath sunk thee to this fortune, our high rank. 
With greatness long acquainted, knows to use 
Its power with gentleness : the low-born wretch, 
That from his mean degree rises at once 
To unexpected riches, treats his slaves 
With barbarous and unbounded insolence. 
From us thou wilt receive a juster treatment. 

Chor. She speaks what best beseems thy present 
state ; 
Follow, submit, and leave that lofty car. 

Clyt. I have not leisure here before the gates 
T' attend on her ; for at the inmost altar, 
Blazing with sacred fires, the victims stand 
Devoted to the Gods for his return 
So much beyond our hopes. If to comply 
Thou form thy mind, delay not : If thy tongue 
Knows not to sound our language, let thy signs 
Supply the place of words, speak with thy hand. 

Chor. Of foreign birth, she understands us not ; 
But as new taken struggles in the net. 

Clyt. 'Tis phrensy this, the impulse of a mind 
Disorder'd ; from a city lately taken 
She comes, and knows not how to bear the 

curb, 
'Till she has spent her rage in bloody foam * ; 
But I no more waste words to be disdain'd. 

Chor. My words, for much I pity her, shall bear 
No mark of anger. Go, unhappy fair one, 
Forsake thy chariot, unreluctant learn 
To bear this new yoke of necessity. 

*This is one of the instances of a covert mode of expression, in 
which more is meant than meets the ear, that occur so frequently 
in the speeches of Clytemnestra. 



THE AGAMEMNON OF .ESCHYLUS. 89 

Cass. Woe ! woe ! O Earth, Apollo, O Apollo ! 
Chor. Why with that voice of woe invoke Apollo ? 

Ill do these notes of grief accord with him. 
Cass. Woe, woe ! O Earth ! Apollo, O Apollo ! 
Chor. Again her inauspicious voice invokes 

4 The God, whose ears are not attuned to woe. 
Cass. Apollo, O Apollo, fatal leader, 

Yet once more, God, thou leadest me to ruin ! 
Chor. She seems prophetic of her own misfortunes, 

Retaining, though a slave, the divine spirit. 
Cass. Apollo, O Apollo, fatal leader, 

Ah, whither hast thou led me ? to what house 1 
Chor. Is that unknown ? Let me declare it then : 

This is the royal mansion of th' Atridas. 
Cass. It is a mansion hated by the Gods, 

Conscious to many a foul and horrid deed ; 

A slaughter house, that reeks with human gore. 
Chor. This stranger seems, like the nice-scented 
hound, 

Quick in the trace of blood, which she will find. 
Cass. These are convincing proofs. Look there, 
look there, 

Whilst pity drops a tear, the children butcher'd, 

The father feasting on their roasted flesh ! 
Chor. Thy fame, prophetic virgin, we have heard ; 

We know thy skill ; but wish no prophets now. 
Cass. Ye powers of Heaven, what does she now de- 
sign? 

What new and dreadful deed of woe is this ? 

What dreadful ill designs she in the house, 

Intolerable, irreparable mischief, 

Whilst far she sends the succouring power 
away ? 
Chor. These prophecies surpass my apprehension : 

The first I knew ; — they echo through the city. 



90 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Cass. Ah daring wretch, dost thou achieve this 
deed, 
Thus in the bath the partner of thy bed 
Refreshing ? How shall I relate th' event ? 
Yet speedy shall it be. E'en now advanc'd 
Hand above hand extended threatens high. 

Chor. I comprehend her not ; her words are dark, 
Perplexing me like abstruse oracles. 

Cass. Ha ! What is this, that I see here before me i 
Is it the net of hell ? or rather hers 
Who shares the bed and plans the murderous 

deed? 
Let discord, whose insatiable rage 
Pursues this race, howl through the royal 

rooms 
Against the victim destined to destruction. 

Chor. What Fury dost thou call within this house 
To hold her orgies ? The dread invocation 
Appals me, to my heart the purple drops 
Flow back ; a deathlike mist covers my eyes, 
With expectation of some sudden ruin. 

Cass. See, see there : from the heifer keep the 
bidl !— 
O'er his black brows she throws th' entangling 

vest, 
And smites him with her huge two-handed 

engine. 
He falls, amidst the cleansing laver falls : 
I tell thee of the bath, the treach'rous bath. 

Chor. T' unfold the oracles obscure of Heaven 
Is not my boast ; beneath the shadowing veil 
Misfortune lies : When did th' inquirer learn 
From the dark sentence an event of joy ? 
From time's first records the diviner's voice 
Gives the sad heart a sense of misery. 



THE AGAMEMNON OF jESCHYLUS. 91 

Cass. Ah me unhappy ! Wretched, wretched fate ! 
For my own sufferings join'd call forth these 

wailings. 
Why hast thou brought me hither ? Wretched 

me ! 
Is it for this, that I may die with him ? 

Chor. This is the phrensy of a mind possess'd 

With wildest ravings. Thy own woes thou 

wailest 
In mournful melody ; like the sweet bird *, 
That darkling pours her never-ceasing plaint ; 
And for her Itys, her lost Itys, wastes 
In sweetest woe her melancholy life. 

Cass. Ah me ! the fortune of the nightingale 

Is to be envied : on her light-poised plumes 
She wings at will her easy way, nor knows 
The anguish of a tear, whilst o'er my head 
Th' impending sword threatens the fatal wound. 

Chor. Whence is this violent, this w T ild presage 
Of ill ? Thy fears are vain ; yet with a voice 
That terrifies, though sweet, aloud thou speakest 
Thy sorrows. Whence hast thou derived these 

omens, 
Thus deeply mark'd with characters of death ? 

Cass. Alas the bed, the bridal bed of Paris, 

Destructive to his friends ! Paternal stream, 
Scamander, on thy banks with careless steps 
My childhood stray'd : but now methinks I go, 
Alas, how soon ! to prophesy around 
Cocytus -j~, and the banks of Acheron ! 

* Philomela : the story is similar to that offensive one of Lavinia, 
in Titus Andronicus. 

f Cocytus and Acheron, rivers in the infernal regions of the 
ancient poets. 



92 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Chor. Perspicuous this, and clear ! the new-born 
babe 
Might comprehend it : but thy piercing griefs 
Bewailing thus the miseries of thy fate, 
Strike deep ; they wound me to my very soul. 

Cass. Ah my poor country, my poor bleeding 
country, 
Fall'n, fall'n for ever ! And you, sacred altars, 
That blazed before my father's towered palace, 
Not all your victims could avert your doom ! 
And on the earth soon shall my warm blood 
flow. 

Chor. This is consistent with thy former ravings. 
Or does some God indeed incumbent press 
Thy soul, and modulate thy voice to utter 
These lamentable notes of woe and death ? 
What the event shall be, exceeds my know- 
ledge. 

Cass. The oracle no more shall shroud its visage 
Beneath a veil, as a new bride that blushes 
To meet the gazing eye ; but like the sun, 
When with his orient ray he gilds the east, 
Shall burst upon you in a flood of light, 
Disclosing deeds of deeper dread. Away, 
Ye mystic coverings ! And you, reverend men, 
Bear witness to me, that with steady step 
I trace foul deeds that smell above the earth. 
For never shall that band, whose yelling notes 
In dismal accord pierce th' affrighted ear, 
Forsake this house. The genius of the feast, 
Drunk with the blood of men, and fired from 

thence 
To bolder daring, ranges through the rooms 
Link'd with his kindred Furies : these possess 



THE AGAMEMNON OF jESCHYLUS. 93 

The mansion, and in horrid measures chaunt 
The first base deed * ; recording with ab- 
horrence 
Th' adulterous lust, that stain'd a brother's bed. 
What, like a skilful archer, have I lodged 
My arrow in the mark ? No trifling this, 
T' alarm you with false sounds. But swear 

to me, 
In solemn attestation, that I know, 
And speak the old offences of this house. 

Chor. In such a rooted ill what healing power 

Resides there in an oath ? But much I marvel 

That thou, the native of a foreign realm, 

Of foreign tongue, canst speak our language 

freely, 
As Greece had been thy constant residence. 

Cass. Apollo graced me with this wondrous skill. 

Chor. Did the God feel the force of young desire? 

Cass. Why ask what shame at first forbad to speak? 

Chor. In each gay breast ease fans the wanton 
flame. 

Cass. (Sighs.) And he breath'd all of love's im- 
patient fervour ! 

Chor. And didst thou listen to his tempting lures ? 

Cass. First I assented, then deceived the God. 

Chor. Wast thou then fraught with these pro- 
phetic arts ? 

Cass. E'en then I told my country all its woes. 

Chor, The anger of the God fell heavy on thee ? 

Cass. My voice, for this offence, lost all persuasion. 

Chor. To us it seems a voice of truth divine. 

* Properly the crime of Tantalus was the first, but it is more 
probable that the incestuous adultery of his grandson Thyestes, 
with iErope, his brother Atreus' wife, is here intended. 



94 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Cass. Woe, woe is me ! Again the furious power 
Swells in my lab'ring breast ; again commands 
My bursting voice ; and what I speak is Fate. — 
Look, look, behold those children. — There they 

sit ; 
Such are the forms, that in the troubled night 
Distract our sleep. — By a friend's hands they 

died : 
Are these the ties of blood? — See, in their 

hands 
Their mangled limbs, horrid repast, they bear : 
Th' invited father shares th' accursed feast. 
For this the sluggard savage, that at ease 
Eolls on his bed, nor rouses from his lair, 
'Gainst my returning lord, for I must wear 
The yoke of slavery, plans the dark design 
Of death. Ah me ! the chieftain of the fleet, 
The vanquisher of Troy, but little knows 
What the smooth tongue of mischief, filed to 

words 
Of glozing courtesy, with Fate her friend, 
Like Ate ranging in the dark, can do 
Calmly : such deeds a woman dares : she dares 
Murder a man. What shall I call this mischief? 
An Amphisbsena * ? or a Scylla rather, 
That in the vex'd rocks holds her residence, 

* A venomous and deadly serpent of the Libyan desert, re- 
markable for having two heads. Milton, in describing the trans- 
formation of the fallen angels in Pandasmonium into serpents- 
writes 

" Dreadful was the din 

Of hissing through the hall ; thick swarming now 
With complicated monsters, head and tail 
Scorpion and asp and amphisbcena dire." 



THE AGAMEMNON OF JESCHYLUS. 95 

And meditates the mariner's destruction ? 
Mother of Hell, 'midst friends enkindling dis- 
cord 
And hate implacable ! With dreadful daring 
How did she shout, as if the battle swerved ? 
Yet with feign'd joy she welcomes his return. — 
These words may want persuasion. What of 

that ? 
What must come, will come : and e'er long 

with grief 
Thou shait confess my prophecies are true. 

Chor. Thyestes' bloody feast oft have I heard of, 
Always with horror ; and I tremble now 
Hearing th' unaggravated truth. What else 
She utters, leads my wand'ring thoughts astray 
In wild uncertainty. 

Cass. Then mark me well, 

Thou shalt behold the death of Agamemnon *< 

Chor. To better omens tune that voice unbless'd, 
Or in eternal silence be it sunk. 

Cass. This is an ill no medicine can heal. 

Chor. Not if it happen : but avert it, Heav'n ! 

Cass. Ah, what a sudden flame comes rushing on 
me ! 
I burn, I burn. Apollo, O Apollo ! 
This lioness, that in a sensual sty 
Roll'd with the wolf, the generous lion absent, 
Will kill me. And the sorceress, as she brews 
Her philtered cup, will drug it with my blood. 
She glories, as against her husband's life 

* To account for the inaction of the Chorus, even after this ex- 
plicit declaration, the reader must bear in mind the effect of Apollo's 
kiss, in consequence of which no credit was e\er to be given to the 
predictions of Cassandra, however true. 



96 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

She whets the axe, her vengeance falls on him 
For that he came accompanied by me. — 
Why do I longer wear these useless honours, 
This laurel wand, and these prophetic wreaths ? 
Away ; before I die I cast you from me ; 
Lie there, and perish ; I am rid of you ; 
Or deck the splendid ruin of some other. 
Apollo rends from me these sacred vestments, 
Who saw me in his rich habiliments 
Mock'd 'midst my friends, doubtless without a 

cause. 
When in opprobrious terms they jeer'd mv 

skill, 
And treated me as a poor vagrant wretch, 
That told events from door to door for bread, 
I bore it all : but now the prophet God, 
That with his own arts graced me, sinks me 

down 
To this low ruin. As my father fell 
Butcher'd e'en at the altar, like the victim's 
My warm blood at the altar shall be shed : 
Nor shall we die unhonour'd by the Gods. 
He comes, dreadful in punishment, the son 
Of this bad mother, by her death t' avenge 
His murder'd father : Distant though he roams, 
An outcast and an exile, by his friends 
Fenced from these deeds of violence, he comes 
In solemn vengeance for his father laid 
Thus low *. — But why for foreign miseries 
Does the tear darken in my eye, that saw 
The fall of Ilium, and its haughty conq'rors 

* The fulfilment of this prophecy forms the subject of the next 
tragedy of this trilogy. 



THE AGAMEMNON OF AESCHYLUS. 97 

In righteous judgment thus receive their meed? 
But forward now ; I go to close the scene, 
Nor shrink from death. I have a vow in 

heaven : 
And further I adjure these gates of Hell, 
Well may the blow be aim'd, that whilst my 

blood 
Flows in a copious stream, I may not feel 
The fierce, convulsive agonies of death ; 
But gently sink, and close my eyes in peace. 
Chor. Unhappy, in thy knowledge most unhappy, 
Long have thy sorrows flow'd. But if indeed 
Thou dost foresee thy death, why, like the 

heifer 
Led by an heav'nly impulse, do thy steps 
Advance thus boldly to the cruel altar ? 
Cass. I could not by delay escape my fate. 
Chor. True ; but to die with glory crowns our 

praise. 
Cass. So died my father, so his noble sons. 
Chor. What may this mean ? Why backward dost 
thou start ? 
Do thy own thoughts with horror strike thy 
soul? 
Cass. The scent of blood and death breathes from 

this house. 
Chor. The victims now are bleeding at the altar. 
Cass. 'Tis such a smell as issues from the tomb. 
Chor. This is no Syrian odour in the house. 
Cass. Such though it be, I enter, to bewail 

My fate, and Agamemnon's. To have lived, 
Let it suffice. And think not, gen'rous 

strangers, 
Like the poor bird that flutters o'er the bough, 

H 



98 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Through fear I linger. But my dying words 
You will remember, when her blood shall flow 
For mine, woman's for woman's ; and the man's, 
For his that falls by his accursed wife. 
Chor. Thy fate, poor sufferer, fills my eyes with 

tears. 
Cass. Yet once more let me raise my mournful 

voice. 
Thou Sun, whose rising beams shall bless no 

more 
These closing eyes ! you, whose vindictive rage 
Hangs o'er my hated murderers, Oh avenge 

me, 
Though a poor slave, I fall an easy prey ! 
This is the state of man : in prosperous fortune 
A shadow, passing light, throws to the ground 
Joy's baseless fabric : in adversity 
Comes malice with a sponge moisten'd in gall, 
And wipes each beauteous character away : 
More than the first this melts my soul to pity. 
Chor. By nature man is form'd with boundless wishes 
For prosperous fortune ; and the great man's 

door 
Stands ever open to that envied person 
On whom she smiles : but enter not with words 
Lik e this, poor sufferer, of such dreadful import. 
His a 'ins the powers of heaven have graced with 

conquest ; 
Troy's proud walls lie in dust ; and he returns 
Crown' d by the Gods with glory : but if now 
His blood must for the blood there shed atone, 
If he must die for those that died, too dearly 
He buys his triumph. Who of mortal men 
Hears this, and dares to think his state secure ? 



THE AGAMEMNON OF jESCHYLUS. 99 

Agam. {within) Oh, I am wounded with a deadly 

blow. 
Semi-chor. List, list. What cry is this of wounds 

and death ? 
Agam. Wounded again, Oh, basely, basely murder'd. 
Semi-chor. 'Tis the king's cry ; the dreadful deed is 
doing. 
What shall we do? what measures shall we 
form? 
Semi-chor. What if we spread th' alarm, and with 
our outcries 
Call at the palace gates the citizens ? 
Semi-chor. Nay rather rush we in, and prove the 
deed, 
Whilst the fresh blood is reeking on the sword. 
Semi-chor. There's reason in thy words. Best enter 
then, 
And see what fate attends the son of Atreus. 

Clytemnestra, Chorus. 

Clyt. To many a fair speech suited to the times 
If my words now be found at variance, 
I shall not blush. For when the heart conceives 
Thoughts of deep vengeance on a foe, what 

means 
T' achieve the deed more certain, than to wear 
The form of friendship, and with circling wiles 
Inclose him in th' insuperable net ? 
This was no hasty, rash-conceiv'd design ; 
But form'd with deep, premeditated thought, 
Incensed with wrongs ; and often have I stood, 
T' assay the execution, where he fell ; 
And plann'd it so, for I with pride avow it : 
He had no power t' escape, or to resist, 

h 2 



100 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Entangled in the gorgeous robe, that shone 
Fatally rich. I struck him twice, and twice 
He groan'd, then died. A third time as he lay 
I gored him with a wound ; a grateful present 
To the stern god that in the realms below 
Reigns o'er the dead : there let him take his seat. 
He lay ; and spouting from his wounds a stream 
Of blood, bedew'd me with these crimson drops. 
I glory in them, like the genial earth, 
When the warm showers of heaven descend, 

and wake 
The flow'rets to unfold their vermeil leaves. 
Come then, ye reverend senators of Argos, 
Joy with me, if your hearts be tuned to joy ; 
And such I wish them. Were it decent now 
To pour libations o'er the dead, justly 
It might be done ; for his injurious pride 
Fill'd for this house the cup of desolation, 
Fated himself to drain it to the dregs. 

Chor. We are astonish'd at thy daring words, 

Thus vaunting o'er the ruins of thy husband. 
What poison hath the baleful-teeming earth, 
Or the chafed billows of the foamy sea, 
Given thee for food, or mingled in thy cup, 
To work thee to this phrensy ? Thy cursed hand 
Hath struck, hath slain. For this thy country's 

wrath 
Shall in just vengeance burst upon thy head, 
And with abhorrence drive thee from the city. 

Clyt. And dost thou now denounce upon my head 
Vengeance, and hate, and exile? 'Gainst this 

man 
Urging no charge ! Yet he without remorse, 
As if a lamb that wanton'd in his pastures 



THE AGAMEMNON OF iESCHYLUS. 101 

Were doom'd to bleed, could sacrifice his 

daughter, 
(For whose dear sake I felt a mother's pains,) 
T' appease the winds of Thrace. Should not 

thy voice 
Adjudge this man to exile, in just vengeance 
For such unholy deeds ? Scarce hast thou heard 
What I have done, but sentence is pronounced, 
And that with rigour too. But mark me well, 
I boldly tell thee that I bear a soul 
Prepared for either fortune : if thy hand 
Be stronger, use thy power : but if the Gods 
Prosper my course, be thou assured, old man, 
Thou shalt be taught a lesson of discretion. 
Chor. Aspiring are thy thoughts, and thy proud 

vaunts 
Swell with disdain ; e'en yet thy madding mind 
Is drunk with slaughter ; w T ith a savage grace 
The thick blood stains thine eye. But soon 

thy friends 
Faithless shall shrink from thy unshelter'd side, 
And leave thee to just vengeance, blow for 

blow. 
Clyt. Hear then this solemn oath : By that revenge, 
Which for my daughter I have greatly taken ; 
By the dread powers of Ate and Erinnys, 
To whom my hand devoted him a victim, 
Without a thought of fear I range these rooms, 
Whilst present to my aid iEgisthus stands, 
As he hath stood, guarding my social hearth : 
He is my shield, my strength, my confidence. 
Here lies my base betrayer, who at Trdy 
Could revel in the arms of each Chryseis ; 
He, and his captive minion ; she that mark'd 



102 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Portents and prodigies, and with ominous 

tongue 
Presaged the Fates ; a wanton harlotry 
Haunting with him in bark and pinnace ; thus 
Their meed have they received. See where he 

lies ; 
And she his paranymph, that like the swan 
Warbled death's notes, lies with him, to my bed 
Leaving the darling object of my wishes. 
Chor. No slow-consuming pains, to torture us 
Fix'd to the groaning couch, await us now ; 
But Fate comes rushing on, and brings the 

sleep 
That wakes no more. There lies the king, 

whose virtues 
Were truly royal. In a woman's cause 
He suffer'd much, and by a woman perish'd. 
Ah fatal Helen ! in the fields of Troy 
How many has thy guilt, thy guilt alone, 
Stretch'd in the dust ? But now by murd'rous 

hands 
Hast thou sluiced out this rich and noble blood, 
Whose foul stains never can be purged. This 

ruin 
Hath discord, raging in the house, effected. 
Clyt. Wish not for death ; nor bow beneath thy 

griefs ; 
Nor turn thy rage on Helen, as if she 
Had drench'd the fields with blood, as she 

alone 
Fatal to Greece had caused these dreadful ills. 
Chor. Tremendous fiend, that breathest through 

this house 
Thy baleful spirit, and with equal daring 



THE AGAMEMNON OF AESCHYLUS. 103 

Hast steel'd these royal sisters * to fierce deeds 
That rend my soul, now, like the baleful raven, 
Incumbent o'er the body dost thou joy 
T' affright us with thy harsh and dissonant 
notes ! 

Clyt. There 's sense in this : now hast thou touch'd 
the key, 
Rousing the Fury that from sire to son 
Hath bade the stream of blood, first pour'd by 

her, 
Descend : one sanguine tide scarce roll'd away, 
Another flows in terrible succession. 

Chor. And dost thou glory in these deeds of death, 
This vengeance of the Fury? Thus to pride 

thee 
In ruin and the havoc of thy house, 
Becomes thee ill. Ah ! 'tis a higher power, 
That thus ordains ; we see the hand of Jove, 
Whose will directs the fate of mortal man. 
My king, my royal lord, what w T ords can show 
My grief, my reverence for thy princely virtues ! 
Art thou thus fall'n, caught in a cobweb snare, 
By impious murder breathing out thy life ? 

Clyt. Thou say'st, and say'st aloud, I did this deed : 
Say not that I, that Agamemnon's wife, 
Did it : the Fury, fatal to this house, 
In vengeance for Thyestes' horrid feast, 
Assumed this form, and with her ancient rage 
Hath for the children sacrificed the man. 

Chor. Art thou thus fall'n, Ah the disloyal bed ! 
Secretly slaughter'd by a treach'rous hand ? 

Clyt. No : of his death far otherwise I deem, 

* Clytemnestra and Helen. 



104 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Nothing disloyal. Nor with secret guile 
Wrought he his murd'rous mischiefs on this 

house. 
For my sweet flow'ret, opening from his stem, 
My Iphigenia, my lamented child, 
Whom he unjustly slew, he justly died. 
Nor let him glory in the shades below ; 
For as he taught his sword to thirst for blood, 
So by the thirsty sword his blood was shed. 
Chor. Perplex'd and troubled in my anxious 

thought, 
Amidst the ruins of this house, despair 
Hangs heavy on me. Drop by drop no more 
Descends the shower of blood ; but the wild 

storm 
In one red torrent shakes the solid walls ; 
Whilst vengeance, ranging through the deathful 

scene, 
For further mischief whets her fatal sword. 
O Earth, that I had rested in thy bosom, 
E'er I had seen him lodged with thee, and 

shrunk 
To the brief compass of a silver urn ! 
Who shall attend the rites of sepulture ? 
Who shall lament him ? Thou whose hand has 

shed 
Thy husband's blood, wilt thou dare raise the 

voice 
Of mourning o'er him ? Thy unhallow'd hand 
Renders these honours, (should they come from 

thee,) 
Unwelcome to his shade. What faithful tongue, 
Fond to recount his great and godlike acts, 
Shall steep in tears his funeral eulogy ? 



THE AGAMEMNON OF iESCHYLUS. 105 

Clyt. This care concerns not thee : by us he fell, 
By us he died ; and we will bury him 
With no domestic grief. But Iphigenia, 
His daughter, as is meet, jocund and blithe, 
Shall meet him on the banks of that sad stream, 
The flood of sorrow * ; and with filial duty 
Hang fondling on her father's neck, and kiss 
him. 

JEgisthus, Clytemnestra, Chorus. 

iEGis. Hail to this joyful day, whose welcome light 
Brings vengeance ! Now I know that the just 

Gods 
Look from their skies, and punish impious 

mortals, 
Seeing this man roll'd in the blood-wove woof, 
The tissue of the Furies, grateful sight, 
And suffering for his father's hateful crimes. 
Atreus, his father, sovereign of this land, 
Brooking no rival in his power, drove out 
My father and his brother, poor Thyestes, 
A wretched exile : from his country far 
He wander'd ; but at length return'd, and stood 
A suppliant before the household Gods, 
Secure in their protection that his blood 
Should not distain the pavement. This man's 

father, 
The sacrilegious Atreus, with more show 
Of courtesy than friendship, spread the feast, 
Devoting, such the fair pretence, the day 
To hospitality and genial mirth : 
Then to my father in that feast served up 

* Stvx. 



106 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

The flesh of his own sons : and he, woe ! woe ! 
The while ! without suspicion ate a food 
Destructive to the race. But when he knew 
Th' unhallow'd deed, he raised a mournful cry, 
And starting up with horror, spurn'd away 
The harb'rous banquet, uttering many a curse 
Of deepest vengeance on the house of Pelops. 
Thus perish all the race of Plisthenes ! 
And for this cause thou seest him fall'n : his 

death 
With justice I devised ; for me he chased, 
The thirteenth son, an infant in my cradle, 
With my unhappy father. Nursed abroad, 
Vengeance led back my steps, and taught my 

hand 
From far to reach him. All this plan of ruin 
Was mine, reckless of what ensues ; e'en death 
Were glorious, now that I am thus avenged. 
Chor. And did the baseness of thy coward soul 
Unman thee for this murder, that a woman, 
(Shame to her country, and her country's gods!) 
Must dare this horrid deed ? But when Orestes, 
Where'er he breathes the vital air, returns, 
(Good fortune be his guide!) shall not his 

hand 
Take a bold vengeance in the death of both ? 
iEGis. From thee, who labourest at the lowest oar, 
This language, and to him that holds the helm ! 
Thou shalt be taught, old man, what at thy age 
Is a hard lesson, — prudence. Chains and hunger, 
Besides the load of age, have sovereign virtue 
To physic the proud heart. Behold this sight*; 

* Pointing to the dead body of the murdered monarch. 



THE AGAMEMNON OF iESCHYLUS. 107 

Does it not ope thine eyes ? Rest quiet then ; 
Contend not with the strong ; there's danger 
in it. 
Chor. An Argive scorns to fawn on guilty great- 
ness. 
Shalt thou reign king in Argos ? Thou, whose 

soul 
Plotted this murder ; whilst thy coward hand 
Shrunk back, nor dared to execute the deed ? 
/Egis. This folly, be assured, shall cost thee dear. 
Clyt. Let no more blood be shed. Go then, old 
men, 
Each to his home ; go, whilst ye may in peace. 
Chor. The craven in her presence rears his crest. 
Clyt. Slight men, regard them not ; but let us 
enter, 
Assume our state, and order all things well. 

END OF THE AGAMEMNON*. 

* The following profound criticism of La Harpe on this play, 
will at least amuse if it do not edify the reader : 

" Agamemnon est une piece froidement atroce Cly- 

temnestre n'est ni amoreuse, ni jalouse, ni ambitieuse. Seulement 
elle veut tuer son mari, et le tue. Voila la piece." Cours de 
Litterature, Tome 1. 

In reality the plot of the Agamemnon is very simple, but that 
is one of the characteristics of the dramas of iEschylus. Subor- 
dinate to the imperturbable power of destiny, the combined pas- 
sions of lust, ambition, and revenge, which actuate Clytemnestra 
and iEgisthus, constitute the moving principle which chiefly con- 
duces to the progress of the action. Clytemnestra has been styled 
the Lady Macbeth of antiquity, but "vaulting ambition" was the 
sole actuating principle of the latter, in the former, love of her pa- 
ramour and revenge for her daughter are predominating passions, 
by which, it may be observed, she is never, like Shakspeare's he- 
roine, completely unsexed. 



THE 

CHOEPHOILE. 



PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. 

ELECTRA. 
ORESTES. 
CLYTEMNESTRA. 
JEGISTHUS, 

PYLADES. 

NURSE and SERVANTS. 

CHORUS of CAPTIVE TROJAN WOMEN. 



THE CHOEPHOIUE OF iESCHYLUS. Ill 



INTRODUCTION. 



The threatened vengeance, with which the Chorus 
menaces the murderers in the close of the last tra- 
gedy, overtakes them in this. Orestes, son of Aga- 
memnon, had been rescued from the machinations 
of iEgisthus and Clytemnestra by the solicitude of 
Electra, his sister, and had been secretly conveyed 
in safety to the court of Strophius, king of Phocis, 
who was married to Agamemnon's sister. The 
king, his uncle, received him with the utmost kind- 
ness, and he was carefully educated with his cousin 
Pylades, the son of Strophius, and from their boyish 
intimacy arose that inviolable attachment which af- 
terwards became proverbial. Arrived at the age of 
manhood, and instigated by the oracle of Apollo to 
avenge his father's wrongs, Orestes repairs to his 
native Argos, accompanied by his friend. On his 
arrival, he immediately proceeds to the tomb of 
Agamemnon, and makes an offering to the shade of 
the deceased monarch of his " crisped locks," which 
he had previously nourished and consecrated to the 
river Inachus. A parallel instance occurs in the 
XXIIId Iliad, where Achilles devotes his hair, 
(sacred till then to the river Sperchius,) to the manes 
of his beloved Patroclus. 

Whilst in the act of making this oblation, Orestes 



112 INTRODUCTION TO 

perceives a solemn and sorrowful procession ap- 
proaching, which proves to be his sister Electra 
coming to offer libations at the tomb of their com- 
mon father, attended by a mourning train of female 
captives brought from Troy. These form the cho- 
rus ; and, as is common in the Greek dramas, give 
the name to the tragedy; the word Choephoras 
signifying bearers of libations to the manes of the 
dead. Orestes and Pylades stand apart in conceal- 
ment, to wait the issue of this ceremony, the Chorus 
singing a solemn dirge in honour of the departed, 
and denouncing the sure though lingering vengeance 
of Ate, goddess of evil, upon the perpetrators of this 
foul and unnatural murder. The hair of Orestes, 
lying on the tomb, fills Electra with hope at once 
and apprehension, until Orestes turns her fears to 
joy, by discovering himself fully. She fires him to 
prompt and decisive action, by a glowing recital of 
their father's sudden and bloody death, his mangled 
corpse barbarously disfigured, and consigned unho- 
noured to the grave, by his own exile from Argos, the 
throne of which was his birth-right, by the indignities 
heaped upon herself, and finally, by a picture of the 
successful adulterers revelling in the enjoyment of 
their ill-gotten power and guilty pleasures. 

Orestes, still naturally anxious to catch at any- 
thing that might tend to palliate their mother's 
crime, eagerly inquires into her motive for send- 
ing these oblations to their father's tomb. The 
Chorus inform him that it was not from any feeling 
of remorse that she had shewn the memory of Aga- 
memnon even this mark of respect ; but that urged 
by a fearful dream, which they relate, and which 



THE CHOEPHOIUE OF jESCHYLUS. 113 

Orestes perceives to be significant of his own intend- 
ed vengeance, her guilty fears had impelled her to this 
effort to appease the shade of her murdered hus- 
band. Orestes then plans the means of gaining ac- 
cess to the palace. He feigns himself a way-faring 
man, travelling from Phocis, and charged with a 
message from king Strophius to the ruler of Argos, 
to tell that young Orestes was no more ; an interview 
with iEgisthus is granted him, he springs upon the 
assassin, and despatches him at once. Before his 
mother's tears, however, his fury relents, and filial 
reverence and affection are ready to disarm his rage, 
until Pylades overcomes his scruples by admonish- 
ing him of the solemn command, and awful denun- 
ciations of Apollo, in case of disobedience. 

The softening of the indignation of the Chorus 
against the adulterers, after vengeance is inflicted 
upon them, and the remorse and incipient madness 
of Orestes, are touched with singular delicacy and 
truth to nature. There are several circumstances in 
this play, and in particular many traits in the cha- 
racter of Orestes, which will forcibly recall to the 
reader's thoughts an English drama, — perhaps the 
most profound and heartfelt of all our Shakspeare's 
tragedies, — Hamlet. 

Some part of the commencement of the play is 
lost ; the address of Orestes, however, on present- 
ing his hair at his father's tomb, is preserved en- 
tire. This is followed by the dirge of the Chorus, 
and a dialogue between the Coryphaeus and Electra, 
as v to the most suitable mode of addressing the shade 
of Agamemnon, under the extraordinary circum- 
stance of offering oblations from the perpetrators of 



114 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

his murder. Electra then advances to the tomb, 
and the action proceeds as follows : — 



Scene, as in the preceding drama, the area before the royal palace 
at Argos, where the tomb of Agamemnon is now perceived. 



ELECTRA,— at the tomb. 

O thou, that to the realms beneath the earth 

Guidest the dead, be present, Mercury, 

And tell me that the powers, whose solemn 

sway 
Extends o'er those dark regions, hear my vows ; 
Tell me that o'er my father's house they roll 
Their awful eyes, and o'er this earth, that bears 
And fosters all, rich in their various fruits. 
And thee, my father, pouring from this vase 
Libations to thy shade, on thee I call : 
O pity me, and pity dear Orestes, 
That in this seat of kings our hands may hold 
The golden reins of power : for now oppress'd, 
And harass'd by a mother's cruel hand, 
(Who for iEgisthus, that contrived thy death, 
Exchanged her royal lord,) he wanders far, 
While I am treated as a slave. Orestes 
From his possessions exiled, they with pride 
Wantonly revel in the wealth thy toils 
Procured : O grant Orestes may return,, 
And fortune be his guide! Hear me, my fa- 
ther, 
And grant me, more than e'er my mother 
knew, 



THE CHOEPHORiE OF .ESCHYLUS. 11-5 

The grace and blush of unstain'd modesty, 

And a more holy hand! For us these vows ; 

But on our foes may thy avenger rise 

Demanding blood for blood. These vows I 
breathe 

In dreadful imprecations on their heads. 

Be thou to us, my father, with the Gods, 

This earth, and powerful justice, be to us 

That breathe this vital air, a guide to good. 

With these libations such the vows I offer. 

Now let your sorrows flow ; attune the psean, 

And soothe his shade with solemn harmony. 
Chor. Swell the warbling voice of woe, 

Loudly let the measures flow ; 

And ever and anon the sorrowing tear 

Trickling dew the hallow'd ground, 

T' avert the ills we fear ; 

Whilst on this sepulchral mound 

Her pious hands the pure libation shed, 

T' atone the mighty dead. 

Hear me, O hear me, awful lord, 

Through the dreary gloom adored ! 

Ha! Who is this? See, sisters, see, 

Mark with what force he shakes his angry 
lance : 

Comes he this ruin'd house to free ? 

So does some Thracian chief advance ; 

So Mars, when roused with war's alarms, 

Radiant all his clashing arms, 

Rears high his flaming falchion to the blow, 

And thunders on the foe. 
Elec 'Tis finish'd ; these libations to my father 

The earth has drunk. — Thou awful Power, that 
holdest 

T 2 



116 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

"Twixt this ethereal sky and the dark realms 
Beneath, dread intercourse, what may this mean ? 
! Tis all amazement. Share this wonder with me. 

Chor. Say what : my throbbing heart has caught 
th' alarm. 

Elec. Placed on the tomb behold these crisped 
locks. 
None here, myself excepted, could devote 
Their locks, the mournful offering ill becomes 
Our enemies. Then the colour : mark it well ; 
'Tis the same shade. 

Chor. With whose ? I burn to know. 

Elec With mine. Compare them : are they not 
much like ? 

Chor. Are they a secret offering from Orestes ? 
I marvel how he dared to venture hither. 

Elec. Perchance he sent this honour to his father. 

Chor. Nor that less cause of sorrow, if his foot 
Must never press his native soil again. 

Elec. A flood of grief o'er whelms me, and my heart 
Is pierced with anguish ; from my eyes that 

view 
These locks, fast fall the ceaseless-streaming 

tears, 
Like wintry showers. To whom besides, that 

here 
Inhabits, could I think these locks belong ? 
Could she, who slew him, offer on his tomb 
Pier hair ? Alas, her thoughts are impious all, 
Such as a daughter dares not name. I deem, 
With reason then I deem, they graced the head 
Of my Orestes, dearest of mankind, 
And fondly mix their kindred griefs with mine. 
A grace and honour to our father's tomb. 



THE CHOEPHORiE OF iESCHYLUS. 117 

Why should I not indulge the flatt'ring hope ? 

But to the Gods, who know what furious 
storms 

Burst o'er me, like a shipwreck'd mariner, 

I make appeal : if haply aught of safety 

Remains, from this small root the vigorous 
trunk 

May spread its shelt'ring branches. — Further 
mark 

Th' impression of these feet ; they shew that 
two 

Trod here ; himself perchance and his attend- 
ant ; 

One of exact dimensions with my own : 

But all is anguish and perplexity. 

Orestes, Pylades, Electra, Chorus. 

Ores. In other pressures beg the favouring Gods 
To hear thy vows, and shower their blessings 

on thee. 
Elec What blessing from them have I now ob- 

tain'd? 
Ores. Thou seest before thee whom but late thine 

eyes 
Most wished to see. 
Elec. And dost thou know the name 

Which with fond joy my tongue delights to 

utter ? 
Ores. Thy fervent vows, I know, are for Orestes. 
Elec And of those vows what have I yet obtain'd? 
Ores. I am Orestes : seek no firmer friend. 
Elec With wily trains thou wouldst ensnare me, 

stranger. 
Ores. Then should I spread these trains against 

myself. 



118 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Elec. But thou wouldst mock me in my miseries. 
Ores. To mock thy miseries were t' insult my own. 
Elec. Am I indeed conversing with Orestes ? 
Ores. Thou seest me present, yet art slow to know 

me. 
When offer'd on the tomb thou saw'st these 

locks, 
When with thy own th' impressions of my feet 
Were measured, joy gave wings to expectation, 
And imaged me before thee. Mark these locks, 
Shorn from thy brother's head ; observe them 

well, 
Compare them with thy own. This tissue, 

view it, 
The texture is thy own, the rich embroidery, 
Thine are these figures, by thy curious hand 
Imaged in gold. — Let not thy joy transport thee : 
Our nearest friends are now our deadliest foes. 
Elec Thou dearest pledge of this imperial house, 
From thee my hopes, water'd with tears, arose : 
Thy valour shall support our righteous cause, 
And vindicate the glories of thy father. 
Pride of my soul, for my fond tongue must 

speak, 
The love my father shared, my mother shared, 
(Once shared; but justly now my soul abhors 

her,) 
And that poor victim, my unhappy sister, 
Is centred all in thee : thou art my father, 
Mother, sister, my support, and glory, 
My only aid: and heaven's great King shall 

prosper 
Thy courage, and the justice of thy cause. 
Ores. Look down, great King of heaven ! Look 

down, behold 



THE CHOEPHORjE OF AESCHYLUS. 119 

These deeds of baseness ; see an orphan race, 
Reft of the parent eagle, that, inwreathed 
In the dire serpent's spiry volumes, perish'd. 
They, unprotected, feel the oppressive pangs 
Of famine, yet too weak to wing their flight, 
And, like their parent, fill their nest with prey. 
We are the eagle's offspring, of our father 
Deprived, and driven in exile from his house. 
Before thy altars, loaded by his hand, 
He bow'd with pious reverence. Should thy 

will 
Permit his young to perish, who shall pay thee 
Like costly honours ? Should the eagle's off- 
spring 
Be doom'd to perish, who shall bear thy thun- 
ders, 
Dread sign of wrath awaked on mortal man ? 
Nor will this empire, wither'd from its roots, 
Adorn thy altars on the solemn day 
"With hallow'd victims. Save us then, protect us, 
To all its former glories raise this house, 
Whose ruin'd towers seem tott'ring to their fall. 
Chor. Ye generous offspring of this royal house, 
And guardians of its honour, check your trans- 
ports ; 
Lest they be heard, and some malicious tongue 
Bear them to our bad rulers : may these eyes 
First see the dark wreaths of their funeral piles. 
Ores. The voice of Phcebus never shall deceive : 
In dreadful accents utter'd from his shrine 
Aloud he charged me to defy the danger, 
Threatening my soul with keenest tortures, 

mulcts 
Less lightly paid than those of hard-earn'd gold, 



120 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Should I forbear t' avenge my father's death 

With equal retribution on his murderers. 

Ills else did he denounce : — ills to the citizen — 

Such as breed joy in taunting foemen's eyes, 

Famine and fruitless acres : — and for us — 

Corrosive leprosies with rankling tooth 

To gnaw our flesh, and taint our healthful 

bodies 
With ulcerous foulness, changing these fresh 

locks 
To untimely white ; with trains of heavier 

woes 
Raised by the Furies for a father's blood. 
For the dark shaft, shot from the realms be- 
neath 
By suppliant kinsmen, slain by villain hands, 
Helps with the night's dread fears, to rouse and 

sting 
The guilty soul to madness, while the whip 
And city's scourge consume his mangled body. 
Such from the friendly bowl, the hallow'd gob- 
let, 
/ The social intercourse, the incensed altar, 

Is chased, condemn'd to bear the secret pangs 
Of inly-gnawing guilt : meanwhile the fiends, 
Hatred and Infamy, pursue his steps, 
And drag him to an execrable death. 
The sacred voice of Phoebus then demands 
My prompt obedience. Could my soul refuse 
T' obey the awful mandate, yet the deed 
Must be accomplish'd ; many urgencies 
Conspire : the charges of the Gods, the grief 
That wounds me for my father, the fierce 
pangs 



THE CH0EFH0R/E OF AESCHYLUS. 121 

Of penury compel me ; and the shame, 

That burns the generous soul, to leave my 

country, 
And all those heroes glorious through the world, 
Whose conquering arms laid Troy's proud 

towers in dust, 
Slaves to two women ; for his soul is woman : 
If not, the occasion soon will prove his spirit. 
Chor. And you, tremendous Destinies, whose power 
Is ratified by Jove, mark the firm course 
Of justice, and by that direct th' event. 
Ores. O thou much injured shade, my suffering 
father, 
In thy dear cause what shall I say, what do^ 
Guided by fortune hither ? Where, O where 
Is thy couch spread? Our. light is shaded o'er 
With darkness deep as thine : our youthful 

graces, 
That in this royal house once bloom'd with hope 
Fair opening, shrink at the rough blast of 
sorrow. 
Chor. No : the devouring flames, my son, that 
waste 
The body of the dead, touch not the soul ; 
That lives, and knows its destined hour to 

show 
Its wrath : yet for the dead our sorrows rise. 
Elec. Hear me too, O my father ; in those griefs 
Which at thy sepulchre thy children pour, 
I have a mournful part. Thy tomb receives 
Alike the suppliant and the exile. Which, 
Ah which of these is well? Which without 

evils ? 
No lenient hand can ease our miseries. 



122 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Chor. Yet may the God, that uttered from the 

shrine 

His awful voice, from these raise other sounds 

More pleasing ; and for these sepulchral notes, 

(Notes steep'd in tears,) thro' all these royal 

rooms 
The voice of joy may ring, and hail their lord, 
Return'd to bless them with his kind protection. 
Elec Yet, O my father, hadst thou greatly fallen 
Beneath the walls of Troy, pierced by the spear 
Of some bold Lycian, leaving to thy house 
Thy glory, gracing with illustrious splendor 
Thy children's steps, on that barbaric coast 
The high-raised tomb had dignified thy dust 
And soothed our sorrows. In the realms be- 
neath 
Thy friendly shade, amongst the friendly shades 
That fell with honour there, had held its state 
Majestic and revered, a king, next those 
Whose awful power those darksome realms 

obey. 
For to thy last of life thou wast a king, 
The golden reins of empire graced thy hands, 
And thy strong sceptre ruled a willing people. 
But in the fields of Troy thou didst not fall, 
Nor is thy tomb beside Scamander's stream 
With those that perish'd by the hostile spear. 
Chor. Supreme of Gods, send from the realms of 
night, 
The slow-avenging Ate ; bid her rise 
To blast the fraudful and audacious hands 
Of impious mortals : for a father's wrongs 
She stamps her vengeance deep. W T hen on 
this man 



THE CHOEPHOR^: OF iESCHYLUS. 123 

The vengeful sword shall fall, and bleeding 

nigh 
Lies this bad woman, be it mine to hear 
Their shrieks of death, and answer to their 

cries 
In notes as dismal. Why should I conceal 
My honest hopes ? Fate spreads her sable 

wings, 
And hovers o'er their heads ; before their eyes 
Stands indignation arm'd, and hate enraged, 
Ready to rend their hearts, when Jove shall 

stretch 
His puissant hands. O thou, whose power sub- 
dues 
The mighty, to this country seal thy faith, 
And ratify their doom ! On th' impious heads 
I ask for vengeance. You, whose dreaded 

power 
Th' infernal realms revere, ye Furies, hear me ! 
There is a law that, for each drop of blood 
Shed on the earth, demands that blood be 

shed ; 
For, from the slain, Erinnys calls for slaughter, 
On ruin heaping ruin. Ye dread powers 
Of Hell's dark realms, where are you now ? 

Behold, 
Ye potent curses of the slain, behold 
The poor remains of this imperial house 
Sunk in distress, and all its glories vanish'd ! 
Where, King of Heaven, where may we seek 

for refuge ? 
Elec Again my throbbing heart sinks at the sound 
Of thy laments ; and dark'ning o'er my soul 
At thy sad voice come anguish and despair. 



124 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

But when thy words breathe courage, my sick 

griefs 
Are fled, and fairer fortune seems to smile. 
But with what words to woo her ? Speak 

aloud 
The miseries which w T e suffer from our pa- 
rents ? 
Or smooth our tongues to glozing courtesy ? 
That softens not our miseries : and our spirits, 
Roused by the wrongs of our ungentle mother, 
Contract a kindred fierceness. With bold hand 
She struck the fatal stroke. She struck him 

once ; 
Again she struck him ; her uplifted hands 
Redoubled blow on blow ; swift on his head 
The distant-sounding strokes with steep force 

fell. 
Bold, unrelenting woman ! that could bear 
Without one pitying sigh t' entomb the king 
Unhonour'd with his people's grief, the hus- 
band 
Without a tear to grace his obsequies ! 
Ores. All thou hast mentioned are indignities 

That swell my grief to rage. But vengeance 

arms 
This hand, assisted by the Gods, to punish 
The ignominious wrongs done to my father. 
May this revenge be mine, then let me die ! 
Elec When she had killed, with impious hand she 
maim'd 
His manly figure, and with this abuse 
Entomb'd him here, studious to make his 

murder 
A deed of horror, that through all thy life 



THE CHOEPHOR^E OF AESCHYLUS. 125 

Might shock thy soul. Such was thy father's 
death. 

Such were thy father's ignominious wrongs. 

But me, a poor, deserted, worthless thing, 

Spurn'd like a menial from my own apart- 
ments, 

They bid begone : there I could heave the sigh 

In secret, there indulge the mournful pleasure 

To pour the tear, unnoticed and uncheck'd. 

Hear this, and on thy mind imprint it deep, 

Engrave it on the tablet of thy heart ; 

Be resolute and calm. 

The time demands a firm, determined spirit. 

And thou, my father, hear : on thee I call, 

And with a friendly voice, tho' choked with 
tears: 

Hear us, and aid ! 
Chor. And with a friendly voice this social train 

To her sad voice accords the strain. 

Hear, mighty shade, and from the realms of 
night 

Revisit this ethereal light ; 

Against thy foes impart thy aid, 

Be war with war, and blood with blood repaid ! 

Ye Gods with justice strike the blow ! 

I tremble, as the measures flow ; 

But Fate attends, and hears our call, 

And, stern the bloody forfeit to demand, 

With fury arms the kindred hand, 

And bids the righteous vengeance fall. 

Here Sorrow holds her dismal state, 

Unsated Murder stains the ground, 

Revenge behind and Terror wait, 

And Desolation stalks his round ; 



126 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Not with a distant foe the war to wage, 
But on this house to pour their rage. 
These are the strains, that to the Gods below, 
Th' avenging Gods, in rude notes flow : 
Hear us, dread powers ; and this imperial race, 
Victorious in your might with glory grace ! 
Ores. My royal father, who unroyally 

Wast murdered, give me to command thy 
house ! 
Eeec Hear me my father, for I want thy aid ; 

Grant me to share his vengeance on iEgisthus, 
And then escape : else when the grateful odours 
Are wafted from the festive board, to grace 
The mighty dead, thy shade must want its 
honours. 
Ores. Earth, send my father to behold the com- 
bat ! 
Eeec Inspire him, Proserpine, with glorious force! 
Ores. Think on the bath where thou wast basely 

murdered ! 
Eeec. Think of the net in which their hands en- 
tangled thee ! 
Ores. My father, cannot these dishonours raise 

thee ? 
Eeec Dost thou not raise thy honour'd head ? O 
send 
Justice to aid thy friends : or if thy soul 
Sinks with its wrongs, nor rises to avenge 

them, 
Be the like sufferings ours ! But, O my father 
Hear our last cries, and sitting on thy tomb 
Behold thy sorrowing children ! — 
Now, brother, since thy soul is roused to dare 
This deed, trust on the God, and do it straight. 



THE CHOEPHORJE OF ;ESCHYLUS. 127 

Ores. I shall : but let me pause awhile to ask 

Wherefore she sent these ofF'rings, on what 

motive 
Thus late she soothes th' immedicable ill, 
Paying this wretched honour to the dead 
That cares not for it. 

(to the Chor.) Ye, if ye know, explain her mo- 
tives to me. 
Chor. I know, for I was present : dreams and 
visions, 
The terrors of the night, appall'd her soul ; 
And guilty fears urged her to send these 
off 'rings. 
Ores. Told she the dreams that so alarm'd her 

fears ? 
Chor. Her hideous fancies feign'd that she had 
given 
A dragon birth. 
Ores. And what th' event ? Be brief. 

Chor. This new-born dragon, like an infant child 
Laid in the cradle, seem'd in want of food ; 
And in her dream she held it to her breast. 
Ores. Without a wound 'scaped she the hideous 

monster ? 
Chor. The milk he drew was mix'd with clotted 

blood. 
Ores. 'Tis not for nought, this vision from her 

husband. 
Chor. She cried out in her sleep with wild af- 
fright; 
And many lamps, dim-gleaming through the 

darkness, 
To do her pleasure enter'd the apartment. 



128 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Soon to the tomb she sends these funeral ho- 
nours, % 
Medicinal, as she hopes, to heal her ills. 

Ores. But to this earth, and to my father's tomb 
I make my supplications, that in me 
Her dream may be accomplish'd ; and I judge 
It aptly corresponds : for as this serpent, 
Leaving the place that once was mine, there 

lying 
Swathed like an infant, seized that breast which 

nursed 
My tender age, and mingled with the milk 
Drew clotted blood ; and as with such affright 
She call'd out in her sleep ; it cannot be 
But as she nursed this monster, she must die 
A violent death : and with a dragon's rage 
This hand shall kill her, as her dream declares. 
Or how wilt thou expound these prodigies ? 

Chor. Thus may it be. But now instruct thy friends 
What each must singly do, and each forbear. 

Ores. Few words suffice : then mark me : Let her 
enter ; 
And keep, I charge thee, keep my purpose 

secret ; 
That they, who slew an honourable man 
By cursed deceit, may by deceit be caught 
In the same snare, and perish ; so the God, 
Powerful Apollo, from whose sacred voice 
Nothing but truth can flow, admonish'd me. 
I, like a stranger, harness'd in this coarse 
And way-worn garb, with Pylades my friend, 
Will as a guest and friend knock at the sate : 
Our tongues shall imitate the rustic accent 



THE CHOEPHORiE OF AESCHYLUS. 129 

Familiar to the mountain-race of Phocis. 
But if I pass the threshold of the gates, 
And find him * seated on my father's throne, 
Or should he come t' accost me, be assured 
Quick as the eye can glance, e'er he can say 
Whence is this stranger ? my impatient sword 
Shall strike him dead. So shall the fell Erin- 

nys, 
That riots with a horrid joy in slaughter, 
Quaff this third bowl of blood. — Go then, 

Electra, 
Be watchful ; see that all things in the house 
Be well disposed. And you, I charge you, guard 
Your tongues ; be silent where you ought, and 

where 
Your voice can aid me, speak. The rest my 

friend, 
That guides my sword to vengeance, will o'er- 

see. 

Chorus. 

Stro. 1. Pregnant with ills the dreary air 

Gives sickness, pain, and terror birth, 
The seas, that wind around the earth, 
Fatal to man their monsters bear : 
Each forest in its shaggy sides 

That darkens o'er the perilous ground, 
The lurking, rav'nous savage hides, 

Whilst fierce birds wheel the summits 
round : 
And mark with what tempestuous rage 
Black from the skies the rushing winds engage. 

* JEgisthus. 



150 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Anus. 1. But who the dangerous thoughts can tell 
That in man's daring; bosom roll : 
Or whirl the more tempestuous soul 
Of woman when the passions swell ? 
When love, to torment near allied. 

Bids phrensy rule the troubled hour ? 
Love, that exerts with wanton pride 

O'er female hearts despotic power ; 
And binds in his ungentle chain 
Each savage of the wood, and monster of the 
main. 
Stro. 2. Think with what sullen phrensy fired 

The Thestian dame * with ruthless hand 
Cast on the hearth the fatal brand : 
The flames consumed it, and her son expired. 
With horror think on Scylla's deed"j" . 

To win the favour of the foes, 
(The golden bracelets were the meed,) 

Against her father's life she rose, 
Approach'*! the sleeping monarch's bed, 
And reft the sacred honours of his head. 
Antis. 2. Amongst these deeds of blood tiia: stain 
The annals of the times cf old. 
Be that unhallow'd couch enrblTd, 
Whose guilty loves this royal house profane. 
Enroll'd be all that female hate 

Form'd 'gainst the chief in arms renown'd ; 

* Althaea. See Ovid Met. viii. fab. 4. 

f Daughter of Nisus, king of Megara. On the head of tier 

fat t- grew a golden hair upon which the preservation of his city 

led. When Megara was besieged by Minos king of Crete, 

a, fired with love of the invader, entered her father's apart- 

: as he slept, and cut off the fatal hair. See the story in Ovid 

Trist 2. 



THE CHOEPHORjE OF iESCHYLUS. 131 

The chief, whose glorious, awful state 

E'en madd'ning foes with reverence own'd : 
Those glories, though they blaze no more, 
Quench'd by a woman's hand, I still adore. 
Epod. In the black annals of far distant time 

The Lemnian dames recorded stand * ; 
But the soul shudders at the crime, 

And execrates the murders of their hand : 
Basely at once the husbands bleed ; 
The indignant Gods abhor the deed : 
And shall man dare with impious voice to ap- 
prove 
Deeds, that offend the powers above ? 
Through the gored breast 
With rage imprest 
The sword of justice hews the dreadful wound ; 
And haughty might 
That mocks at right, 
Like the vile dust is trampled on the ground. 
Righteous are thy decrees, eternal King, 
And from the roots of justice spring : 
These shall strike deep, and flourish wide, 
Whilst all, that scorn them, perish in their 

pride. 
Fate the portentous sword prepares, 
And the rough labours of the anvil shares ; 
Wide through the house a tide of blood 
Flows where a former tide had flow'd ; 
Erinnys marks the destined hour, 
Vengeful her meditated rage to pour. 

* They murdered every male in the island except Thoas, who 
was saved by his daughter Hvpsipyle. See Statius, Thebaid. v. 

K2 



132 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Ores. (Knocking at the palace gate,) What, does no 
servant hear me knock ? Who waits 
Within ? Again I knock : Does no one hear ? 
A third time to the menials of this house 
I call, if to the stranger at his gate 
The great iEgisthus bears a courteous soul. 

Serv. Forbear, I pray. Who art thou, and from 
whence ? 

Ores. Go tell the lords of this fair house, to them 
I come, charged with strange tidings : haste ; 
For now the sable chariot of the night 
Rolls on apace ; and the dark hour exhorts 
The way-spent traveller to seek repose. 

Clytemnestra, Orestes, Pylades, 
Electra, Chorus. 

Clyt. Speak, strangers, what your wants ; here 

shall you find 
All that becomes a house like this * ; warm 

baths 
Refreshment of your toils, the well spread couch 
Inviting soft repose, and over all 
An eye regarding justice. If your business 
Be of more serious import, asking counsel, 
The province this of men ; we will inform 

them. 



* " Hospitality " observes the late Mr. Mitford, the profound 
and ingenious historian of Greece, " will be generally found to 
have flourished in different ages and countries, very nearly in pro- 
portion to the necessity for it ; that is, in proportion to the de- 
ficiency of jurisprudence, and the weakness of government." Hist. 
of Greece, Vol. I. Sect. 4>. 



THE CHOEPHOR.E OF iESCHYLUS. 133 

Ores. A Phocian am I, from the town of Daulis. 
Occasions of my own call'd me to Argos, 
Nor ask'd a better dress than this coarse garb 
Familiar to me : onwards as I travell'd 
I met a man unknown, myself to him 
Unknown ; he courteous questional me how far 
I journey'd, and inform'd me of my way, 
Strophius of Phocis, (so I chanc'd to learn;) 
" Stranger", he said, " since business of thy own 
Leads thee to Argos, let me task thy care 
To tell Orestes' parents that the youth 
Is dead. Forget it not. Whether his friends 
With solemn obsequies will fetch him hence, 
Or in eternal rest our friendly earth 
Shall lay him in her hospitable bosom, 
Bring back their pleasure ; for the brazen urn 
Now holds the ashes of the honour'd prince 
Whom we lament." This, faithful to my charge 
Have I deliver'd ; if to kindred ears, 
And those whose power is sovereign here, I 

know not. 
But it is meet his parents knew th' event. 

Elec Ah me ! Thus desolation on our head 

Is fall'n ! O thou relentless curse, whose rage 
Hung o'er this house, has thy unsparing eye 
Mark'dwhat we lodged at distance, aiming there 
Thy cruel shafts, to rob me of my friends ? 
E'en now Orestes, who with cautious tread 
Had from this gulf of ruin freed his foot, 
E'en he, the hope medicinal to the madness 
Of this bad house, shows that our hope be- 
trays us *. 

* It is almost needless to remind the reader that Electra well 
knew this account of her brother's death to be feigned, and that 



134 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Ores. It were my wish to have borne other tidings, 
More welcome to the lords of this fair mansion, 
And meriting their hospitable favours : 
For what more strongly to benevolence 
Can bind the grateful soul? Yet I should 

deem it 
An impious wrong not to disclose e'en these, 
Unwelcome, as they must be, to his friends, 
So solemnly entrusted to my charge. 

Clyt. Nor less for this shalt thou receive such care 
As thy worth challenges : nor less for this 
Respected here : another would have come, 
Charged with the same sad message. But the 

hour 
Demands refreshment for the stranger, spent 
With the long travel of the weary day. 
Lead him to those apartments, where the men 
Are well received ; let his attendant follow, 
His fellow traveller : let thy careful hand, 
I charge thee, minister to all their wants. 
We to the ruler of this house will bear 
These tidings, and amongst our friends consult 
What measures in this sad event to form. 

Chorus, alone. 

Now, my dear partners, slaves to this proud 

house, 
Now let us shew our fortitude, now teach 
Our tongues a noble daring for Orestes. 

Thou hallow'd earth, thou hallow'd mound, 
Whose high sepulchral round 

this apostrophe to the curse of Thyestes, is only intended to de- 
ceive Clytemnestra, and disarm her of all suspicion. 



THE CHOEPHOR.E OF .ESCHYLUS. 135 

Lies on the royal chief, that o'er the main 
To glory led his martial train, 

Now hear us, now impart your aid : 
On this important hour, 
Persuasion, try thy fraudful power : 

And thou, through night's surrounding shade, 
Come Mercury, from the shades below, 
And when the falchion flames, direct th' aveng- 
ing blow ! 

Servant, Gillssa* Chorus. 

Serv. This stranger, it should seem, brings mourn- 
ful tidings ; 
I see the tear steal from Gilissa's eye, 
Nurse of Orestes. But her honest grief 
Shall here find no reward : expect it not. 

Gills. My royal mistress order' d me with speed 
To call iEgisthus to these stranger guests ; 
That man from man he with more certainty 
Might learn this fresh report. Before the ser- 
vants 
She kept her smile beneath a mournful eye, 
To hide her joy at this event ; to her 
A joy indeed, but to this house a tale 
Of deep affliction. He too, when he hears 
The narrative, will from his soul rejoice. 
Ah me ! what sorrows in successive train 
Have in this house of Atreus pierced my soul 
From ancient times : but never have I suffered 
A loss like this : with patience other ills, 
Well as I might, I bore. But my Orestes 
Was the dear object of my anxious thoughts ; 
An infant I received him from his mother ; 
I nursed him, many a night to all his wants, 



136 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

To all his cries attentive, with a care 

That now avails me not. Ere reason dawns, 

The nurse's care is needful ; in his cradle 

The infant knows not to express his wants, 

Rise they from thirst, or hunger, or the calls 

Of nature : with fond diligence I mark'd 

Th' instinctive cry, nor with a squeamish nice- 

ness 
Thought scorn of any office ; for my love 
Made all delightful. Now, alas ! in vain. 
But I am sent in haste to that vile man, 
Whose rank pollution stains this noble house ; 
With pleasure this report will he receive. 

Chor. With what appointment does she bid him 
come ? 

Gilis. She bids him come attended with his guards, 

Chor. No, tell him not *, this hated lord ; but wear 
A face of cheerfulness ; and urge him hither 
Alone, devoid of fear, to be inform'd. 

Gilis. This news, it seems, is welcome to thy soul. 

Chor. But what if Heaven's high Kino- redress 
these ills ? 

Gilis. How? With Orestes all our hopes are 
dead. 

Chor. Not all. This needs no prophet to unfold it. 

Gilis. Hast thou heard aught disproving this re* 
port ? 

* Orestes had enjoined the Chorus to be silent where they 
ought, and to speak where their voice might aid him : they had 
kept themselves near the tomb till they saw him enter the palace ; 
they then advance with an intention of assisting his cause, as oc- 
casion should arise : Gilissa soon gave them a very favourable 
one, which they embrace, by conjuring that faithful servant to call 
forth iEgisthus alone, without his guards, which facilitated the de- 
sign of Orestes. 



THE CHOErilOR/E OF jESCIIYLUS. 137 

Ciior. Go, bear thy message ; do as thou art or- 
der'd : 
The Gods, whose care this is, will guide the 
event. 
Gilis. I go, in all observant of thy precepts. 

May what is best come from the fav'ring Gods ! 

Exit. 



Thou, that hast fix'd thy dreary reign 

Deep in the yawning gulf below, 
Yet let him-j~ rise, yet view this scene, 

Around his gloomy eyeballs throw, 
Distinct and clear the vengeance mark, 
That threatens from her covert dark ! 
Thou, son of Maia J, come, and with thee lead 
Success, that crowns the daring deed : 
To form the close and dark design, 
Whether th' ambiguous tale thou lovest to 

weave, 
And throw around the veil of night ; 
Or bidd'st e'en truth itself deceive, 
Displayed in all the dazzling blaze of light ; 
The powers of secrecy are thine. 
Then shall this pensive female train 

These rich oblations pay no more ; 
No more the melancholy strain, 

Tuned to the voice of anguish, pour. 
Raptured their triumph shall I see, 
My friends from ruffian danger free. 

* The following ode, the reader will observe, is monostrophie ; 
see page 40. 

f Agamemnon. \ Mercury. 



138 GREEK DRAMATIC EOETS. 

And thou, when thy stern part is come, be 

bold : 
Think how in blood thy father rolled : 

And when. " my son. my son."' she cries, 
To melt thy manly mind with plaintive moan, 

Then to her guilty soul recal 

Thy murder'd father's dying groan : 
And to his angry vengeance let her fall : 

Like Perseus turn thy ruthless eye : 
Just to thy friends above, thy friends below, 

Aim with applauded rage the destined wound : 
Great in thy vengeance rush upon the foe, 

And strike the murd'rer bleeding to the 
ground. 

.Tgisthus, Gilissa, Chorus. 

.Tgis. This message has a voice, that calls me 
forth 
To learn with more assurance the report, 
By certain strangers brought, touching the 

death 
Of young Orestes ; whether should I give 
Full credit to this tale, or rather deem it 
The idle offspring of these women's fears, 
That lightly rose, and will as lightly die ? 
This stranger I must see, that I may learn 
If he himself were present at his death, 
Or onlv speaks from an obscure report. 

Exit. 

Chor. What should I say, eternal King, 
Or how begin the strain ? 
These passions how contain, 
That in my throbbing breast tumultuous spring? 



THE CHOEPHORiE OF jESCHYLUS. 1S9 

O that, in aid, my daring deed 

Might all the force of words exceed ! 

For now distain'd with blood the flick'ring 

sword 
The contest ends ; if all 
This royal race shall fall ; 
Or the just laws their ancient state resuming, 
And liberty her light reluming, 
Hail to his father's rights the son restored. 
Gainst two fierce wolves the youth contesting 

stands 
Alone. May heaven-sent conquest grace hi$ 

hands ! 
^Igis. (Within,) Oh! I am slain. 
Chor. That groan ! Again that groan ! 

Whence ? What is done ? Who rules the storm 

within ? 
The deed is finish'd : let us keep aloof, 
And seem unconscious of these ills : best stand 
At distance, whilst destruction ends her work. 
Serv. Woe, woe is me ! Woe to my slaughter'd 

lord! 
Woe on my wretched head, and woe again ! 
iEgisthus is no more. 

Clytemnestra, Servant, Chorus. 

Clyt. What means thy clamour ? Whence these 

shrieks of woe ? 
Serv. They, that were rumour'd dead, have slain 

the living. 
Clyt. Ah me ! I understand thee, though thy words 
Are dark ; and we shall perish in the toils, 
E'en as we spread them. Give me instantly 
The slaught'ring axe ; it shall be seen if yet 



140 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

We know the way to conquer, or are con- 
quer 'd : 

These daring measures have my wrongs en- 
forced. 

Orestes, Pyeades, Ceytemnestra, Chorus. 

Ores. Thee too I seek : he has his righteous meed. 
Ceyt. Ah me ! my dear iEgisthus, thou art dead. 
Ores. And dost thou love the man ? In the same 
tomb 
Shalt thou be laid, nor e'en in death forsake 
him. 
Clyt. Ah, stay thy hand, my son : my clrld, my 
child, 
Revere this breast, on which thou oft hast 

slept, 
And oft thy infant lips have press'd its milk. 
Ores. What shall I do, my Pylades ? Restrain'd 

By filial reverence, dread to kill my mother ? 
Pye. Where then the other oracles of Phoebus, 

Giv'n from the Pythian shrine ? The faithful 

vows, 
The solemn adjurations, whither vanish'd ? 
Deem all the world thy foes, save the just 
Gods. 
Ores. Thou hast convinced me ; thy reproofs are 
just.— 
Follow him : on his body will I slay thee. 
Alive thou held'st him dearer than my father ; 
Then sleep with him in death, since thou couldst 

love him, 
And hate the man who most deserved thy love. 
Clyt. My son, my son, thou wilt not kill thy mo- 
ther ! 



THE CHOEPHOR.E OF /ESCHYLUS. 141 

Ores. Thy hand, not mine, is guilty of thy death. 
Clyt. Take heed ; avoid a mother's angry Furies. 
Ores. Relaxing here, how shall I 'scape my fa- 
ther's ? 
Clyt. Methinks, while yet alive, before my tomb 
I pour the funeral strain, that nought avails 
me. 
Ores. Nought : for my father's fate ordains thy 

death. 
Clyt. Ah me ! I gave this dragon birth, I nursed 
him ; 
These terrors of the night were more than 
phantoms. 
Ores. Foul and unnatural was thy murd'rous deed: 
Foul and unnatural be thy punishment. 

Exeunt. 
Chor. (alone.) The double ruin e'en of these 
awakes 
Our grief. But since his cruel fate has plunged 
Orestes deep in blood, pour we the prayer 
That his fair day set not in endless night. 

Epode. 

Cheerful the light beg-ins to rise : 

Sunk was our sun, and long in darkness lay, 
Nor promised the return of day : 

Soon may his beams revisit our sad eyes ! 
When these cleansed floors no more retain 
Polluting murder's sanguine stain, 

Time haply may behold his orient rays 

O'er these illumined turrets blaze ; 

And fortune, mounted on her golden seat, 

Rejoice in our triumphant state, 






142 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Rejoice to see our glories rise, 
And our unclouded sun flame o'er the sapphire 
skies. 

Re-enter Orestes. 

Orestes, Chorus. 

Ores. Behold the murderers of my father slain ! 
Behold the proud oppressors of my country. 
Spread out the bloody garment to the sun, 
That with his awful eye he may behold 
My mother's impious deeds, and in the hour 
Of judgment be my witness, that with justice 
My vengeance fell on her, and on iEgisthus. 
Chor. O horror, horror ! dreadful were your deeds, 
And dreadful is your death ; the ling'ring ven- 
geance 
Bursts with redoubled force. This was her 

deed, 
Her cursed deed : this vestment is my witness, 
Tinged by iEgisthus' sword ; the gushing blood, 
Now stifFen'd, stains its Tyrian-tinctured ra- 
diance. 
Ores. I see the doom assign'd me : as the car 

Whirl'd from its course by the impetuous 

steeds 
That scorn the reins, so my exulting heart 
Bounds with tumultuous and ungovern'd pas- 
sions. 
Yet let me plead, whilst reason holds her seat, 
Plead to my friends, that in the cause of justice 
I slew my mother ; for her impious hands, 
Stain'd with my father's blood, call'd down 
revenge 



THE CIIOEPHOfLE OF .ESCIIYLUS. 143 

From the offended Gods. And here I plead, 
To mitigate the deed, the Pythian prophet, 
Phoebus, whose voice pronounced me from the 

shrine, 
If I achieved the vengeance, free from guilt : 
To my refusal dreadful was his threat 
Of punishments, beyond the reach of thought. 
Graced with this branch of olive and this 

wreath, 
I will approach his shrine, his central throne *, 
And his eternal fires, there to be cleansed 
From the pollution of this kindred blood. 
Ha ! look, ye female captives, what are these 
Vested in sable stoles, of Gorgon aspect, 
Their starting locks tangled with knots of 

vipers ! 
I fly, I fly ; I cannot bear the sight. 

Chor. What phantoms, what unreal shadows thus 
Distract thee ? Victor in thy father's cause, 
To him most dear, start not at fancied terrors. 

Ores. These are no phantoms, no unreal shadows ; 
I know them now ; my mother's angry Furies. 

Chor. The blood as yet is fresh upon thy hands, 
And thence these terrors sink into thy soul. 



* The Greeks considered the temple of Apollo at Delphi, a 
valley of Mount Parnassus, as the centre of the earth, and told a 
foolish story about Jupiter letting loose two doves of equal swiftness 
from the extremities of the world, which met at the place where the 
temple was built. Mr. Bryant, in his Analysis, informs us that this 
notion arose from a corruption of the words Omphi-El, which sig- 
nify the Oracle of the Sun, but resemble in sound a Greek word 
which means navel, whence Delphi was commonly reputed um- 
bilicus terra?. 



144 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Ores. Royal Apollo, how their numbers swell ! 

And the foul gore drops from their hideous 
eyes. 
Chor. Within are lavers. Soon as thou shalt reach 
His shrine, Phoebus will free thee from these 
ills. 
Ores. But see you nothing there ? Again, look, 
took! 
Distraction 's in the sight : I fly, I fly. 
Chor. Blest may'st thou be : and may the God, 
whose eye 
Looks on thee, guard thee in these dreadful 
dangers ! 

Thrice on this royal house the bursting 

storm 
Hath pour'd its rage in blood. Thyestes first 
Mourn'd for his slaughter'd sons. Th' imperial 

lord, 
The leader of the martial hosts of Greece, 
Next fell beneath the murd'ring sword, and 

stain'd 
Th' ensanguined bath. Then came th' intrepid 

youth 
Arm'd with the sword — of Freedom should I 

say, 
Or fate ? — How long shall vengeance pour her 

terrors ? 
When curb her fiery rage, and sleep in peace ? 



END OF THE CHOEPHOR.E. 




•M 



EUMENXDES, 



THE FURIES. 



PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. 

ORESTES. 

MINERVA. 

APOLLO. 

JUDGES OF THE AREOPAGUS. 

CHORUS, THE FURIES. 



THE EUMENIDES OF jESCHYLUS. 147 



INTRODUCTION. 

Orestes fled, according to his declaration at the 
close of the last tragedy, to the temple of Apollo at 
Delphi, to implore deliverance from the Furies, who 
haunted him continually on account of the death of 
his mother. This play commences with solemn 
rites in honour of the Gods, performed by the Py- 
thian priestess in the vestibule of the temple. The 
temple then opens and discovers Orestes in an atti- 
tude of supplication before the God, surrounded by 
a grisly troop of female furies, overcome with fa- 
tigue in pursuing their wretched victim over land 
and wave, city and sea-girt isle ; and now snoring 
loudly in profound slumber. In answer to the prayer 
of Orestes, Apollo commands him to repair to the 
image of Minerva, in her favoured city, where means 
shall be devised to ratify his pardon and peace. 
Orestes having accordingly departed to Athens, 
the ghost of Clytemnestra rises, and chides, in the 
bitterest terms, the infernal powers, (yet snoring,) 
for their remissness in thus indulging repose, instead 
of hunting their victim to the death, when once they 
had snuffed the scent of blood. One of the Furies, 
at length awaking, instantly takes alarm, and vio- 
lently seizes the Fury next her, screaming out, 

Awake, arise: rouse her as I rouse thee; 

an exclamation which, as implying that there was 

l % 



148 INTRODUCTION TO 

only one more to be awoke, seems to strengthen the 
supposition that the number was limited to three, 
Alecto, Tisiphone, and Megaira, although it is not 
so represented in Flaxman's accompanying design. 
Once roused from slumber, thev veil out their rage 
against Apollo for suffering Orestes to escape while 
they slept, and the god very unceremoniously drives 
them out of his temple, denouncing them as detested 
hags of hell, with other harsh and scornful epithets, 
little suited to our notions of celestial dignity. 

Orestes next appears, in obedience to the voice 
of the Delphic oracle, a suppliant at the shrine of 
Pallas, in the Acropolis of Athens. The advocates 
of what they pleasantly term the " Aristotelic " uni- 
ties, are highly offended at this sudden change of 
scene, in open violation of their boasted unity of 
place ; and they rail at it in good French and bad 
Latin accordingly. The feelings of the English 
reader, albeit unused to quarrel with the similar 
metabases so frequent in our Shakspeare, have been 
spared so severe a shock as stirs the bile of the 
French critics on this occasion, by the excision of 
all that part of the drama which precedes the ap- 
pearance of Orestes in the temple of Minerva. In 
answer to the prayer of her suppliant, the goddess 
consents to put him on his trial, before selected 
judges of the Areopagus, and to abide their decision 
as to his guilt or innocence. A brief account of the 
institution to which so signal a mark of even divine 
approbation is ascribed by the poet, who doubtless 
intended this as the most flattering compliment he 
could pay to his countrymen, may not be unac- 
ceptable. 

The number of persons who composed the court 



THE EUMENIDES OF jESCHYLUS. 149 

of Areopagus at Athens, which Aristides pronounces 
the most sacred and venerable tribunal of all Greece, 
is not certainly known. Maximus informs us that 
it consisted of fifty-one members, besides such men 
of rank as were eminent both for their virtue and 
their riches. Those of the archons, or governors- 
general of Attica, who had served their office irre- 
proachably, were usually admitted. Such was the 
general reputation of the court for the fairness and 
integrity of its decisions, that foreign states often 
voluntarily submitted their disputes to its arbitra- 
tion, and bound themselves to abide by its award. 

Among the Athenians themselves, the crime of idle- 
ness, which they looked upon as the root of all evil, 
was one that came especially under the cognizance 
of the Areopagus. All matters relating to religion 
and the worship of the gods were also referred to 
the decision of this court; whence, in the 17th 
chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, we find Saint 
Paul arraigned before it, as a setter forth of strange 
gods, because w T hen certain philosophers of the 
Epicureans and of the Stoics encountered him, he 
preached unto them Jesus and the resurrection, 
" to the Greeks foolishness." And it was to them 
more immediately, that the same apostle directs 
that admirable address commencing Acts ch. xvii. 
v. 22. 

They sat in the open air, because they took 
cognizance of murder and other offences of the 
deepest dye, and dreaded the pollution of capital 
criminals, if admitted under the same roof: they 
heard pleadings at night only, and in darkness, that 
they might not see the parties, nor be influenced by 
any external circumstance whatever. They per- 



150 INTRODUCTION- TO 

mitted facts only to be stated, without any of the 
ornaments of rhetoric. On the tribunal were placed 
two urns, one of brass, the other of wood ; into the 
former the shells of condemnation were cast, into 
the latter those of acquittal. Pericles undermined 
the purity and authority of this tribunal, in revenge 
for their refusal to admit him as a member, and 
from his time it ceased to be an object of much ve- 
neration. 

On the passage in Cicero's defence of Milo, which 
refers to the acquittal of Orestes by the goddess of 
wisdom herself, when the voices of his human 
judges were equally divided, Bishop Hurd, in his 
notes on the Ars Poetica of Horace, thus comments : 
" The venerable council of Areopagus, when judging 
by the severe rules of written justice, it seems, did 
not condemn the criminal, and the unwritten law of 
equity, which the fable calls the wisdom of Pallas, 
formally acquitted him 

" The pagan doctrine of Fate was such, that in 
order to discharge duty in one respect, it was un- 
avoidable to incur guilt in another. This was the 
case here ; Phoebus commanded and fate had de- 
creed : yet obedience was a crime, to be expiated by 
future punishment. 

" This may seem strange to us, who have other 
notions of these matters, but was perfectly according 
to the pagan system. The result is, that they know- 
ingly exposed themselves to vengeance in order to 
fulfil their fate. All that remained was to lament 
their destiny, and revere the awful and mysterious 
providence of their gods." 

We shall no longer detain the reader from the 
temple of Minerva, and the trial itself. 



THE EUMENIDES OF AESCHYLUS. 151 

Scene, the Temple of Minerva at Athens ; Orestes alone before 
the statue of the goddess, in an attitude of supplication. 






Ores. Hither, divine Minerva, by command 

Of Phoebus, am I come. Propitious power 
Receive me, by the Furies' tort'ring rage 
Pursued, no vile unhallow'd wretch, nor stain'd 
With guilty blood, but worn with toil, and 

spent 
With many a painful step to other shrines, 
And in the paths of men. By land, by sea 
Wearied alike, obedient to the voice, 
The oracle of Phoebus, I approach 
Thy shrine, thy statue, Goddess ; here to fix 
My stand, till judgment shall decide my cause. 

[Here the Chorus of Furies enter.] 

Chor. These toils oppress me, as with breathless 

haste 
I urge the keen pursuit : o'er the long tract 
Of continent, and o'er th' extended ocean, 
Swift as the flying ship I hold my course, 
Though on no pennons borne. — There, there he 

stands, 
His speed outstripping mine. Have I then 

found thee ? 
With joy I snufTthe scent of human blood — 
Take heed, take heed : keep careful watch ; nor 

let 
This murderer of his mother once more 'scape, 
By secret flight, your vengeance : trembling, 

weak, 



152 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

He hangs upon the image of the goddess, 
And wishes to be clear'd of his base deeds, 
It may not be : no : when the fluent moisture 
Has sunk into the ground, 'tis lost for ever : 
Can then a mother's blood, spilt on the earth, 
Be from the earth recover'd ? No. Thy hour 
Of suffering is arrived, the hour that gives 
The purple stream that warms thy heart to 

quench 
My thirst, which burns to quaff thy blood, and 

bend 
To the dark realms below thy wasted limbs ; 
There, for thy mother's murder, shalt thou 

learn 
To taste of pain ; there see whatever mortal 
Dared an injurious deed, profaned the Gods, 
Attack'd with ruffian violence the stranger, 
Or raised his impious hand against a parent, 
Each with vindictive pains condemn'd to groan, 
His crimes requiting ; for beneath the earth, 
The awful judge of mortals, Pluto sits, 
And with relentless justice marks their deeds. 
Ores. Train'd in affliction's rigid lore, I know 
Many ablutions : when to speak I know, 
When to be silent : inspiration now 
With heavenly wisdom prompts my tongue to 

plead. 
The faded blood is vanish'd from my hands, 
Nor from my mother's slaughter leaves a 

stain ; 
The recent crimson at Apollo's shrine 
Wash'd off with lavers pure, atoned with gifts. 
All things with time grow old, and wear away. 
And now from hallow'd lips my pious prayer 



THE EUMENIDES OF jESCHYLUS. 15S 

Invokes the power presiding o'er this realm, 
Royal Minerva, that she haste to aid 
Her suppliant : so, with voluntary zeal 
Myself, my country, all the Argive people, 
To her with justice I devote for ever. 
If in the coasts of Libya, on the banks 
Of Triton *, native stream, she sets her foot, 
Or bare or buskin'd, prompt to aid her 

friends ; 
If o'er the plains of Phlegra, like a chief 
That marshals his bold troops, she darts her 

eye, 
Her presence I implore ; though distant far, 
The goddess hears ; to free me from these ills. 
Chor. No : not Apollo, nor Minerva's power 

Shall set thee free, but that an abject outcast 
Thou drag thy steps, seeking in vain to find 
Rest to thy joyless soul, exhausted, worn, 
A lifeless shadow. Yet thy pride replies not, 
Me and my threats despising, though to me 
Devoted, my rich victim, and alive 
To feed my rage, not offer'd on the altar. 
Hear now the potent strain, that charms thee 

mine. 

Prosode. 

Quickly, sisters, stand around, 

Raise your choral warblings high ; 

Since, the guilty soul to wound, 

Swells the horrid harmony. 

Since to mortal man we show 

How we give his fate to flow ; 

* Tritonis was a lake and river of Libya, whence Pallas was 
called Tritonia ; either from a temple dedicated to her near the 
place, or, because it was there that she sprang from the skull of 
Jove. 



154 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Since our will his doom ordains, 
Show that justice 'mongst us reigns. 
He, whose hands from guilt are pure, 
Stands in innocence secure ; 
And from youth to honour'd age 
Fears not our vindictive rage. 
To the wretch, that strives to hide 
Ruffian hands with murder dyed, 
Clothed in terrors we appear, 
Unrelentingly severe ; 
And, faithful to the injured dead, 
Pour our vengeance on his head. 

Strophe. 

Hear me, dread parent, sable-vested Night, 
O hear the avenger of each impious deed ; 
Whether we lie in shades conceal'd, 
Or to the eye of day reveal'd ! 
Seest thou how Phoebus robs me of my right, 
From my just rage the trembling victim freed, 
Destined his mother's death t' atone, 
And for her blood to shed his own! 
O'er my victim raise the strain, 
And let the dismal sound 
His tortured bosom wound, 
And to phrensy fire his braim 
Silent be the silver shell, 
Whilst we chant the potent spell ; 
Then yelling bid the infernal descant roll, 
To harrow up his soul. 

Antistrophe 1. 

Avenging fate, as bending o'er the loom 
She wove the web, to us this part assign'd, 



THE EUMENIDES OF AESCHYLUS. 155 

" Whoe'er the laws shall dare disdain 

And his rude hand with murder stain, 
Pursue him Furies, urge his rigorous doom, 
Till refuge in the realms he find." 

E'en there not free ; my chast'ning power 

Pursues him to that dreary shore. 

O'er my victim raise the strain, 

And let the dismal sound 

His tortured bosom wound, 

And to phrensy fire his brain. 

Silent be the silver shell, 

Whilst we chant the potent spell ; 
Then yelling bid th' infernal descant roll, 
To harrow up his soul. 

Antistrophe 2. 

His wrathful eye heav'n's mighty monarch 

rolls, 
Awfully silent on this blood-stain'd race. 

But all the gorgeous blaze of power, 

Which trembling mortals here adore, 
When, mantled in these sable-shaded stoles, 
With blood-besprinkled feet we urge the chase, 

Sinks darkling to the infernal shades, 

And all its boasted glory fades. 

Near him, as he flies, I bound, 

And when, with guilt opprest, 

His weary steps would rest, 

Spurn him headlong to the ground. 

Senseless he, perchance, and blind, 

Such the phrensy of his mind, 
Such the deep gloom guilt spreads around his 

walls, 
He knows not that he falls. 



]56 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 



But shall sheltering wall or gloom 
That from dark'ning guilt is spread, 
Hide him from his rigorous doom, 
Or protect his destined head ? 
Mine the vengeance to design, 
And to stamp it deep is mine. 
Sternly mindful of the crime, 
Nor by man appeased, nor time, 
When the wretch, whose deed unblest 
Dares profane high Heaven's behest, 
Though conceal'd from mortal eyes 
Through the sunless darkness flies, 
We pursue the rugged chase, 
And his dubious footsteps trace. 
Hear then, guilty mortals, hear, 
And the righteous gods revere ; 
Hear the task to me assigned, 
Fate the firm decree shall bind ; 
Mine the prize of old ordain' d, 
Never with dishonour stain' d, 
Though my drear abode profound 
Night and darkness cover round. 

Minerva, Orestes, Chorus. 

Mix. Whose was the voice that call'd ? Though dis- 
tant far 
I heard it, where Scamander laves the fields, 
Mv ancient right : to me the Grecian chiefs 
With voluntary zeal assign'd this portion 
Of their rich conquest, ever to be mine, 
Selected as a gift to the brave race 
Of Theseus. With a speed that equals wings 



THE EUMENIDES OF /ESCHYLUS. 157 

My vig'rous steeds thence whirl'd my car, the 

wind 
Against my aegis * rustling as I pass'd. 
But who are these consorted here ? Mine eye 
Views them un terrified ; but much I marvel. 
What, and whence are you? To you all I 

speak, 
To him, the stranger, seated at my image, 
And you, whose hideous shape resembles 

nought 
Of mortal race, nor goddesses in heaven. 
Chor. Daughter of Jove, take our report in brief. 
We are the gloomy daughters of black Night, 
Called Furies in the drear abodes below. 
Mix. I know your race, and aptly added titles. 
Chor. 'Tis ours to drive all murd'rers from their 
home, 
Where they shall never taste or peace or joy. 
Mix. And does thy yelling voice thus drive him out? 
Chor. He dared to be the murderer of his mother. 
Mix. Urged by the force of no necessity ? 
Chor. What force could urge the wretch to kill his 

mother ? 
Mix. He hears but half that hears one party only. 
Chor. Hear thou the cause, and judge with righteous 

justice. 
Mix. Rests the decision of the cause on me ? 
Chor. We reverence thee as worthiest 'midst the 

worthy. 
Mix. Say, stranger, what canst thou reply to this ? 
Speak first thy race, thy country, thy misfor- 
tunes ; 

* The shield of Jupiter ; but borne also by Minerva. 



158 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Then urge thy plea against this accusation ; 
If trusting in the justice of thy cause, 
Thus seated near my altar, thou embrace 
With reverent hands, a suppliant as Ixion *, 
My statue. Be thy answer short and clear. 
Ores. Royal Minerva, let me first remove 

What thy last words, with much concern, sug- 
gest. 
I am not stain'd w T ith blood, nor shall my hand 
Pollute thy statue : what I urge in proof 
Bears strong conviction. Him, whose hands 

are red 
With blood, the laws forbid to plead his cause, 
Till with its flowing gore the new-slain victim 
Has made atonement, and the cleansing wave 
Restored his purity. In other shrines 
Long since these hallow'd rites have been per- 
formed 
With offer'd victims and the flowing stream. 
Blameless of this offence, I next declare 
My race : an Argive : nor to thee unknown 
My sire, the leader of the naval hosts, 
The royal Agamemnon ; for with him 
Thy conquering hand laid the proud walls of 

Troy 
In dust ; returning to his house he perish'd 

* Ixion married the daughter of Deioneus, king of Phoeis : 
having treacherously murdered his wife's father, he was refused 
purification on earth, and roamed through the world a fugitive and 
a vagabond, till, at the last, Jupiter, moved to pity, expiated his 
crime and received him into heaven. Here he became enamoured 
of Juno, whom he found a goddess indeed in pursuit, but a cloud 
in possession. By the continually revolving wheel to which Ixion 
was fabled to have been subsequently fastened in hell, the eternity 
of divine punishments is thought to have been intimated. 



THE EUMENIDES OF iESCHYLUS. 159 

By deeds of baseness ; for my dark-soul'd 

mother 
With wily art in private murder'd him ; 
Th' ensanguined bath attested the foul deed. 
I, then an exile, bending back my steps, 
Slew her that gave me birth; nor shall my 

tongue 
Deny the deed ; it was a vengeance due 
To my loved father's shade : so Phoebus deem'd, 
Who urged me, and denounced heart-rending 

woes, 
Should I shrink back refusing to avenge 
The guilt ; but if with justice, be thou judge. 
To thy deciding voice my soul submits. 
Min. This is a cause of moment, and exceeds 
The reach of mortal man ; nor is it mine 
To judge, when blood with eager rage excites 
To vengeance. Thou with preparation meet 
Hast to my shrine approach' d a suppliant pure, 
Without offence ; and to my favour'd city 
Uncharged with blame I readily receive thee. 
Let these, whose ruthless rage knows not the 

touch 
Of pity, not succeeding in their plea, 
Retire awhile, till judgment shall decide 
The contest : from their breasts black poison 

flows, 
And taints the sick'ning earth. Thus I pro- 
nounce 
To each, unequal in this dubious strife 
To give content to both. But since to me 
Th' appeal is made, it shall be mine t' elect 
Judges of blood, their faith confirmed by oath, 
And ratify the everlasting law. 



4fr 



160 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Prepare you for the trial, call your proofs, 
Arrange your evidence, bring all that tends 
To aid your cause : I from the holiest men 
That grace my city will select, to judge 
This cause with justice ; men whose sanctity 
Abhors injustice, and reveres an oath. 

CHORUS. 

Strophe 1. 
Confusion on these upstart laws ! 

Havoc with haughty stride 

Shall march, and wave her banner wide, 
If venial be this bloody caitiff's cause. 

Impunity shall mortals lead 

To every savage deed, 
And prompt the son with rage unblest 
To plant the dagger in the parent's breast, 
I smile at all this lawless force ; 

Nor shall our dreaded power 

In vengeance visit impious mortals more : 
No : let destruction take her destined course. 

Antistrophe 1. 
Whilst his own anguish one shall moan, 
He hears his neighbour tell, 
Appall'd, of deeds as fierce, as fell ; 
Tear falls to. tear, and groan succeeds to groan. 
Nor shall the rolling storm of woe 
One gleam of comfort know. 
When anguish rends the tortured breast, 
Be not to us the mournful call addrest. 
" Where is your throne, ye Furies, where 
Justice ?" the father cries. 
Or the pale mother, as in blood she lies : 



THE EUMENIDES OF JESCHYLUS. 161 

But justice from her throne is exiled far. 
Strophe 2. 

Yet are there hours, when conscious fear 

And the stern eye, that darts 

Severely through their secret hearts, 
With sober counsels check their mad career. 

For when no ray of heavenly light 

Breaks through the sullen night, 
Dark deeds ensue, and virtue's power 
By man, by state is reverenced no more. 
Shall he, the wretch that scorns control, 

And spurns each sacred law, 

Or he that drags his chain with servile awe, 
Feel the sweet peace that calms the virtuous 
soul? 

Antistrophe 2. 

Placed in the midst does strength reside, 

With an indignant frown 

On each extreme the Gods look down ; 
Injustice is the child of impious pride. 

But all the joys that life can know, 

From temper'd wisdom flow. 
To justice chief thy soul incline, 
And bow with reverence at her hallow'd shrine ; 

Nor dare, allured by cursed gold, 

With foot profane and bold 
To spurn her altars : vengeance waits the 

crime, 
And arm'd with terrors knows her destined time 

Epode. 

Let each with awe profound 
A parent's honour'd name obey : 



162 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS, 

Each to thy milder voice, humanity, 
Attentive homage pay, 

When for the stranger thou art found 

Pleading thy strains of pious potency. 
He, that to virtue's heavenly power 
Unforced his willing soul shall bow, 
Nor ruin's tyrant rage shall know, 
Nor keen affliction's torturing hour. 

But he, that dares her sacred laws despise, 
Trampling on justice to secure his prey, 

AppalFd shall hear the rushing whirlwinds rise 9 
And tremble at the storms that swell the sea. 
Wild with despair 
He pours his prayer, 
Whirl'd in the giddy tempest round : 
His blasted pride 
The Gods deride, 
And all his daring hopes confound ; 
Smile, as they view him rack'd with pain 
Bound in misfortune's iron chain ; 

As on the pointed rock they see him thrown, 

To perish there in pain, unpitied and alone. 

Minerva, Apollo, Orestes, Chorus. 
(The Judges of the Areopagus seated.) 

Min. Now, herald, let thy voice to all my people 
Proclaim attention : sound the Tuscan trumpet. 
That its ear-piercing notes may fill the city, 
Commanding silence, and impressing awe 
Due to this great assembly ; that the state 
May learn my everlasting laws, and hear 
The righteous judgment that decides this 
cause. 



THE EUMENIDES OF ^SCHYLUS. 163 

Chor. Royal Apollo, where thy rule extends, 

There lord it : but what right canst thou claim 
here ? 
Apol. To give my evidence I come. This man 
Is at my shrine a suppliant, at my shrine 
He sojourns ; with ablutions pure I cleansed 
His stains of blood ; and now shall plead his 

cause, 
Our common cause, since for his mother's 

death 
Your accusations reach e'en me : but thou 
Urge, as thou canst, thy plea : open the charge. 
Min. This is incumbent on you ; open then 

The cause : th' accuser's voice must first ex- 
plain 
Clearly through every circumstance the charge. 
Chor, Though we are many, brief shall be our 
words. 
Now answer me in order, word for word. 
My first demand is, Didst thou kill thy mo- 
ther? 
Ores. I did ; and never shall deny the deed ; 

I drew my sword, and plunged it in her breast. 
Chor. At whose persuasion? Or by whose ad- 
vice? 
Ores. By his oracular voice : he will attest it. 
Chor. Apollo urge thee to this bloody deed ! 
Ores. Nor thus far have I to accuse my fate. 
Chor. Far other language the condemning vote 

Will teach thy tongue. 
Ores. My confidence is firm ; 

My father from the tomb will send me aid. 
Chor. Thy sword is purple with thy mother's 
blood. 



164 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Ores. Her breast was spotted with a double stain : 
She slew my father when she slew her hus- 
band. 
Chor. And yet thou hVst : from that stain she is 

free. 
Ores. Why, whilst she lived, didst thou not drive 

her out? 
Chor. She had no kindred blood with him she 

slew. 
Ores. Is mine allied then to my mother's blood "I 
Chor. How else, before thy birth, did she sustain, 
How nourish thee ? The murd'rous wretch 

disowns 
That dearest of all ties, a mother's blood. 
Ores. Now let me call thy testimony ; now 
Declare, Apollo, if I slew her justly: 
For that I slew her, in such circumstance, 
I do confess : if rightfully, or not, 
Decide, that I to these may plead thy sanction. 
Apol. To you, the great and reverend council here 
Placed by Minerva, will I speak, and truly : 
For never shall the God of Prophecy 
Pronounce a falsehood : never have I utter d 
From my oracular seat, to man, to woman, 
Or state, save what the great Olympian Sire 
Shall have commanded. Of his sovereign jus- 
tice 
Learn you the force, and bow to his high will ; 
Nor deem an oath of greater power than Jove. 
Chor. This oracle, thou say'st, was dictated 

By Jove, to charge Orestes, whilst his hand 
Was arm'd with vengeance for a father's mur- 
der, 
To pay no reverence to his mother's blood. 



THE EUMENIDES OF jESCHYLUS. 1 65 

Apol. Of higher import is it, when a man 
Illustrious for his virtues, by the Gods 
Exalted to the regal throne, shall die, 
Die by a woman's hand, by one that dares not 
Bend, like an Amazon, the stubborn bow. 
But hear me, Pallas, hear me you that sit 
In awful judgement to decide this cause. 
Victorious from the war, with glory crown'd, 
And graced with many a trophy, at the bath 
She smilingly received him ; there refresh'd, 
As o'er his head he threw the splendid robe 
Prepared to muffle him, she slew her hus- 
band. 
So died the chief, the glorious, the renown'd, 
The leader of the warlike troops of Greece ! 

Chor. So Jove, it seems, respects the father's fate ; 
Yet on his father he could bind the chain, 
On hoary Saturn * : thus his deed gainsays 
Thy words : I pray you mark the poor evasion. 

Apol. Detested hags, the abhorrence of the Gods ! 
He could unbind these chains, and the release 
Has a medicinal power. But when the blood, 
That issues from the slain, sinks in the dust, 
It never rises more. For this my sire 
No remedy admits, in all besides 
With sovereign power or ruins or restores. 

Chor. See with what ill-judged zeal thy arguments 
Tend to absolve him ! Shall the wretch, whose 

hand 
Spilt on the earth the kindred blood that flow'd 
Within his mother's veins, return to Argos 

* The statues of Saturn were usually hung with fetters, in 
commemoration of the chains with which he had been bound when 
dethroned and imprisoned by Jupiter. 



166 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Lord of his father's house ? Before what altar. 
Sacred to public offerings, shall he bend ? 
What friendly laver shall admit his hands ? 

Apol. This too shall I explain ; and mark me well, 
If reason guide my words. The mother's 

power 
Produces not the offspring, ill call'd hers. 
No : 'tis the faiher, that to her commits 
The infant plant ; she but the teeming soil 
That gives the stranger growth, if favouring 

Heaven 
Denies it not to flourish : this I urge 
In proof, a father may assert that name 
Without a mother's aid : an instance sits 
Minerva, daughter of Olympian Jove; 
Not the slow produce of nine darkling months, 
But fornrd at once in all her perfect bloom: 
Such from no pregnant goddess ever sprung. 
Thy state, thy people, Pallas, be it mine 
To exalt to glory, and what else of greatness 
I know to give. This suppliant to thy shrine 
I sent, assuring his eternal faith ; 
Thy votary he, and his descendants thine, 
From sire to son through all succeeding ages. 

Mix. The pleas are urged : these now I charge to 
give 
Sentence, with strict regard to truth and jus- 
tice. 

Chor. We have discharged our shafts : and now I 
wait 
To hear what sentence shall decide this cause. 

Mix. What, am I never to escape your censure 1 

Chor. Give what you 've heard due weight ; and 
with pure hearts 






THE EUMENIDES OF iESCHYLUS. It37 

Pronouncing judgment reverence your high 

oath. 
Min. Ye citizens of Athens, now attend, 

Whilst this great council in a cause of blood 
First give their judgment. But through fu- 
ture ages 
This awful court shall to the hosts of iEgeus 
With uncorrupted sanctity remain. 
Here on this mount of Mars * the Amazons 
Of old encarap'd, when their embattled troops 
March'd against Theseus, and in glittering 

arms 
Breathed vengeance ; here their new-aspiring 

towers 
Raised high their rampired heads to storm his 

towers ; 
And here their hallow'd altars rose to Mars : 
Hence its illustrious name the cliff retains, 
The Mount of Mars. In this the solemn state 
Of this majestic city, and the awe 
That rises thence shall be a holy guard 
Against injustice, shall protect the laws 
Pure and unsullied from tlr oppressive power 
Of innovation, and th' adulterate stain 
Of foreign mixture : Should thy hand pollute 
The liquid fount with mud, where wilt thou 

find 
The grateful draught? Let not my citizens 
Riot in lawless anarchy, nor wear 
The chain of' tyrant power, nor from their 

state 
Loose all the eurb of rigour : this removed, 

* The word Areopagus means Mars'-hill. 



168 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

What mortal man, unchecked with sense of fear, 
Would reverence justice ? Let the majesty, 
That here resides, impress your souls with awe ; 
Your country has a fence, your town a guard, 
Such as no nation knows ; not those that dw r ell 
In Scythia, or the cultured realms of Pelops : 
This court, superior to th' alluring glare 
Of pestilent gold, this court, that claims your 

awe 
Severely just, I constitute your guard, 
Watchful to shield your country and its peace : 
These my commands to every future age 
Have I extended. Now behoves you, judges, 
Give test of your integrity ; bring forth 
The shells ; with strictest justice give your 

votes, 
And reverence your high oath. This is my 
charge. 

Chor. Nor of their honours rob this train, whose 
power 
Is dreadful in the drear abodes below. 

Apol. And be my oracles, the voice of Jove, 

Revered, nor seek to move their firm decree. 

Chor. Beyond thy charge protecting deeds of 
blood, 
Nor reverend are thy oracles, nor pure. 

Apol. Think of the expiation which of old 

Ixion made for blood*; wilt thou arraign 
My father's councils there ? Or slept his wis- 
dom? 

Chor. Thou say'st it: but if justice fails me here, 
This land shall feel the terrors of my wrath. 

* See note, page 159. 



THE EUMENIDES OF jESCHYLUS. 169 

Apol. Unhonour'd thou by every power of heaven, 
Or young, or old ; to triumph here is mine. 

Chor. Such in the house of Pheres were thy deeds, 
When, won by thy alluring voice, the Fates 
On mortal man* conferr'd immortal honours. 

Apol. To aid, to grace the pious, when their 
prayers 
Rightly invoke our influence, is just. 

Chor. What, hast thou crush'd the power of ancient 
Fate, 
And wouldst thou now delude our honour'd 
age? 

Apol. Soon shall thy malice, baffled in this cause, 
Shed its black venom harmless to thy foes. 

Chor. Since thy proud youth insults my hoary 
years, 
I wait th' event in silence, and suspend 
The fury of my vengeance on this city. 

Min. Last to give suffrage in this cause is mine : 
In favour of Orestes shall I add 
My vote ; for as no mother gave me birth, 
My grace in all things, save the nuptial rites, 
Attends the male, as from my sire I drew 
The vigour of my soul. No woman's fate, 
Stain'd with her husband's blood, whom nature 

form'd 
Lord of his house, finds partial preference here. 
Orestes, if the number of the votes 
Be equal, is absolved. Now from the urn 
Let those among the judges, to whose honour 
This office is assign'd, draw forth the lots. 



* Admetus, son of Pheres, whose flocks Apollo tended when- 
banished from heaven. 



170 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Ores. O Phoebus, what th' event that waits this 

cause ! 
Chor. O Night, dark mother, through thy raven 

gloom 
Seest thou these things ? Now on the doubtful 

edge 
Of black despair I stand, or joyful light, 
Driven out with infamy, or graced with honour. 
Apol. Now, strangers, count the lots with wary 

heed, 
And with impartial justice sever them. 
One shell misplaced haply brings ruin ; one 
May raise again a desolated house. 
Min. (after a pause,) He is absolved, free from 

the doom of blood, 
For equal are the numbers of the shells. 
Ores. O thou, whose tutelary power preserved 

The honours o: my house, thou, Goddess, thou 
Hast to his country and his native rites 
Restored this exile ; and each Greek shall say, 
This Argive to his father's throne returns ; 
So Pallas wills, and Phoebus, and the God 
All-powerful to protect: my father's death 
He marked severe, and looks indignant down 
On those that patronise my mother's cause. 
First to this country, and to this thy people 
Through time's eternal course I pledge my faith, 
And bind it with an oath : now to my house 
I bend my steps : never may chieftain thence 
Advance against this land with hostile spear. 
If any shall hereafter violate 
My oath now made, though then these 

mould'ring bones 
Rest in the silent tomb, my shade shall raise 



THE EUMENIDES OF iESCHYLUS. 171 

Invincible distress, disasters, toils, 

To thwart them, and obstruct their lawless 

march, 
Till in dismay, repentant, they abhor 
Their enterprise. But to the social powers 
That reverence this thy state, and lift the lance 
In its defence, benevolent shall be 
My gentler influence. Hail, Goddess ; hail, 
Ye guardians of this city ; be your walls 
Impregnable, and in the shock of war 
May conquest grace the spear that aids your 
cause ! 
Chor. I burst with rage. With cruel pride 

These youthful Gods my slighted age deride ; 

And, the old laws disdaining to obey, 

Rend from my wither'd hands my prey. 

Tortured with grief's corroding smart, 

And taught disgrace and scorn to know, 

Distilling from my anguish'd heart 

The pestilential drop shall flow : 

Where'er it falls, nor fruit around, 

Nor leaf shall grace the blasted ground ; 

Through the sick air its baleful dews 

A caustic venom shall diffuse ; 

And breathing on this hated race 

With deep rough scars the beauteous form 

deface. 
Vainly shall I heave my sighs, 
Or bid my angry vengeance rise ? 
To insults, which my bosom rend, 
Vulgar spirits scorn to bend ; 
And shall thy daughters, awful Night, in vain 
Of their disgrace complain ? 
Min. Let my entreaties move you ; bear not this 



172 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

With such deep anger ; for no conquest here 
Wounds your insulted honour : from the urn 
The lots came equal, so disposed by truth, 
To thee no insult ofF'ring ; and from Jove 
Flowed splendid signs : he gave the oracle, 
He added his high test, that for the deed 
Orestes should not suffer. Breathe not then 
Your heavy vengeance on this land ; restrain 
Your indignation ; o'er these sick'ning fields 
Drop not your pestilential dews, nor blast 
Their glitt'ring verdure, and their springing 

seeds. 
Of all the Gods I only know the keys 
That ope those solid doors within whose vaults 
Jove's thunders sleep. Of these there is no need, 
If, now persuaded, thy o'er-hasty tongue 
Forbear those threats, from which no fruit can 

flow, 
But ruin to the earth : Compose that rage, 
And here I pledge my faith this grateful land 
Shall willingly receive you ; raise you seats 
High at their blazing hearths, and with deep awe 
Imprest, pay reverent honours to your power. 

The ' Wierd Sisters ' remain long inexorable both 
to the threats and the entreaties of Minerva ; at 
length, however, overcome by persevering impor- 
tunity, they yield to her persuasions, agree to se- 
cond her efforts in the cause of mercy, and fix their 
residence at Athens, where a temple and a festival 
are thereupon dedicated to their honour. Minerva 
then dismisses them to the altars at which victims 
are being sacrificed, with the soothing and auspici- 
ous words, 



THE EUMENIDES OF jESCIIYLUS. 173 

Go to those sacred flames, they will conduct 

you, 
And from these hallow'd victims sink with 

speed 
To the dark shades below ; imprison there 
Whate'er is noxious to these realms ; whatever 
Has influence to bless them, send in triumph. 
And you, high-lineaged guardians of the state, 
Attend these stranger-guests to their new seats, 
And be each gentle thought attuned to good. 

The Chorus then sing a votive strain, " breath- 
ing blessings o'er the land," and retire with pro- 
mises that to the utmost of their power Athens 
shall enjoy golden days, unclouded with grief or 
care, as long as they continue to receive respect and 
worship in the state. It was on this occasion that 
their name was changed, from Erynnies or Furies, 
to that of Eumenides or Benignant, whence the title 
of the drama. 



END OF THE EUMENIDES. 



THE 



SEVEN CHIEFS 



AGAINST 



THEBES. 



PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. 

ETEOCLES. 

SOLDIER. 

ANTIGONE. 

HERALD. 

CHORUS of THEBAN VIRGINS. 



THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 177 



INTRODUCTION. 

The expedition of the Seven Chiefs against Thebes is 
the first instance on record of a league among the 
princes of Greece, or of any thing resembling a re- 
gular war. Eteocles and Polynices were sons of 
(Edipus and Jocasta ; CEdipus, whose story we 
shall see at length in Sophocles, when he learned 
that he had killed his father Laius, and that Jocasta, 
who had borne to him two sons and two daughters, 
was his own mother, tore out his eyes in a transport 
of despair and horror. His sons, grown up to man's 
estate, deprived their father, now blind and doting, 
of his kingdom : he in his resentment uttered the 
most horrid imprecations against them, praying that 
a father's curse might ever sow dissension between 
them, and divide with a sword the kingdom they 
had stolen. To avert this fatality it was agreed be- 
tween the brothers that they should reign in Thebes 
alternately, each for a year. Eteocles, the elder, 
reigned first, but at the expiration of his year re- 
fused to yield up the throne to his brother. Poly- 
nices upon this fled to the court of Adrastus king of 
Argos to implore assistance, and received in marriage 
Argia, the daughter of that monarch ; Adrastus then 
marched against Thebes, to support the claims of 
his son-in-law, with an army led by seven of the 
most renowned Argive generals, whence the name 
of the tragedy. The scene is in the city of Thebes, 

N 



178 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

before the principal temple. The play begins with 
an exhortation of Eteocles to the Theban citizens 
to be vigorous and vigilant in defence of their be- 
leagured walls : while he speaks, a soldier enters 
with intelligence of the enemy : 

Soldier, Eteocles, Chorus. 

Sold. Illustrious king of Thebes, I bring thee 
tidings 
Of firm assurance from the foe ; these eyes 
Beheld each circumstance. Seven valiant chiefs 
Slew on the black-orb'd shield the victim bull, 
And dipping in the gore their furious hands, 
In solemn oath attest the God of war, 
Bellona, and the carnage-loving power 
Of Terror, sworn from their firm base to rend 
These w^alls, and lay their ramparts in the dust ; 
Or, dying, with their warm blood steep this 

earth. 
Each in Adrastus' car some dear remembrance *, 
Piled to their distant parents, whilst their eyes 
Dropp'd tears, but on their face was no re- 
morse. 
Each soul of iron glow T ing with the rage 
Of valour, as the lion when he glares 
Determined battle. What I now relate 
Sleeps not, nor lingers : round the urn I left 

them, 
By lot deciding to what gate each chief 
Should lead his forces. Against these select 

* The famous augur Amphiaraus, married to Eriphyle the 
sister of Adrastus king of Argos, had foretold that he alone of the 
chiefs should return from the Theban war. 



THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAIXST THEBES. U9 

The best, the bravest of the sons of Thebes 
Clouded ,n dust, and from the snonl steed, 

"»** *-. *m-d diffusa 

Be thine the provident pilot's gen'rous care 
Guard well the town, e'er vet tL V* '•> 

E'en now the waves of Z^S^& ! 

MvteM, , thlS 'f • ° C , Casi ° n ' "-'-t set P it ' • 
ThJ „ " ] / ye thlS da y shal] "old the watch 

«. hob. M oe, woe, intolerable woe « 

fierce from their camps the hosts advance 
Before then- march with thundering tread 

And hS. /T [ hdr fieiy «■» Snee 
And h.ther bend their footsteps dread • 
Yon cloud of dust that choke? the air 
A true though tonguelcss messenger ' 

1 nat, j ke the torrent, whose impetuous tide 
Roars down the mountain's craggy she 
^.ak es the wide fields with fierce alarm. 
Wnh nearer ^terrors strikes our semis™' 
An ci hrough our chaste recesses rolls : 



180 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

The crowded walls around 
Loud clamours rend the sky; 
Whilst ranged in deep array th' embattled 
powers 
Their silver shields * lift high, 
And, level with the ground 
To lay their rampired heads, assail our towers. 

What guardian God shall I implore ? 
Bending at what sacred shrine 
Call from their happy seats what powers divine, 
And suppliant ev'ry sculptured form adore ? 
The time demands it : why then, why delay ? — 
The sound of arms swells on my affrighted 

ear. — 
Hold now the pall, the garland, as you pray. — 
Hark ! 'tis the rude clash of no single spear. 
Stern God of war, 
Dost thou prepare 
Thy sacred city to betray ? 
Look down, look down ; 
O save thine own ; 
Nor leave us to our foes a prey : 
If e'er thy soul had pleasure in the brave, 
God of the golden helm, hear us, and save ! 
And all ye powers, whose guardian care 
Protects these walls, this favour'd land, 

O hear these pious, suppliant strains ; 
Propitious aid us, aid a virgin band, 

And save us from the victor's chains ! 
For all around with crested pride 
High waves the helm's terrific tide, 

* i. e. Plain or white shields, thus Thetis is styled sfer-footed 
by Homer, to signify the whiteness of her feet. 



THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 181 

Tost by the furious breath of war. 
And thou, great Jove, almighty sire, 
Confound with foul defeat these Argive powers, 
Whose arms insult our leaguer'd towers, 

And daunt our souls with hostile fire. 
The reins that curb their proud steeds 

'round, 
Rattle, and death is in the sound. 
'Gainst our seven gates seven chiefs of high 

command, 
In arms spear-proof, take their appointed stand ;• 
Daughter of Jove, whose soul 
Glows at th' embattled plain, 
And thou, by whom the pawing steed arose *, 
Great monarch of the main 
Curb'd by thy strong control ; 
From our fears free us, free us from our foes ! 

On thee, stern Mars, again I call : 
Haste thee, God, and with thee bring 
The Queen of Love, from whose high race we 
spring ; 
If Cadmus e'er was dear, defend his wall ! 
Thou terror of the savage, Phcebus, hear, 

In all thy terrors rush upon the foe ! 
Chaste Virgin-huntress, Goddess ever dear, 
Wing the keen arrow from thy ready bow ! 
Hark ! fraught with war 
The groaning car, 

* The story was, that Neptune and Minerva both claimed the 
honour of giving their name to Athens : Jupiter decreed that 
whichever produced the most useful present to mankind should 
have the preference. Neptune struck the earth with his trident, 
and gave existence to the horse ; Minerva with her spear raised 
the olive tree, and conquered. 



182 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Imperial Juno ! shakes the ground ; 
Fierce as they pass, 
The wheels of brass, 
Dear Virgin-huntress ! roar around : 
The gleaming lustre of the brandish'd spear 
Glares terribly across the troubled air. 
Alas my country ! must these eyes, 

Must these sad eyes behold thy fall ? 
Ah, what a storm of stones, that flies 

And, wing'd with ruin, smites the wall ! 
O Phoebus ! at each crowded gate 
Begins the dreadful work of fate ; 
Each arm the thund'ring falchion w T ields, 
And clashes on the sounding shields. 
O thou, whose kind and matchless might, 
Blest Onca*, through the glowing fight 
Obedient conquest joys t' attend, 
All our seven gates, dread queen, defend ! 
And all ye mighty, guardian powers, 
That here preside, protect our towers : 
Nor the war-wasted town betray, 
To fierce fraternal foes a prey ! 
Ye Gods, deliverers of this land, 
To whom we stretch the suppliant hand, 
Hear us, O hear our virgin prayer, 
And show that Thebes is yet your care ! 
By every solemn temple, every shrine, 
Each hallowed orgie, and each rite divine, 
Each honour to your power in reverence paid, 
Hear us, ye guardian Gods, hear us, and aid ! 

Eteocles, Chorus. 
Eteo. War is no female province, but the scene 
* Minerva. 



THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 183 

For men : hence, home ; nor spread your wait- 
ings here. 

Chor. Dear to thy country, son of CEdipus, 

My soul was seized with terror, when I heard 
The rapid car roll on, its whirling wheels 
Grating harsh thunder ; and the iron curb 
Incessant clashing on the barbed steed. 

Eteo. What ! should the pilot, when the lab'ring bark 
Scarce rides the swelling surge, forsake the 

helm, 
And seek his safety from the sculptured prow ? 

Chor. Yet therefore to these ancient images, 
Confiding in their sacred power, I ran, 
When at the gates sharp sleet of arrowy shower 
Drove hard ; my fears impell'd me to implore 
The blest Gods to protect the city's strength. 

Eteo. Pray that our towers repel the hostile spear. 
My charge shall be at our seven gates to fix 
Six of our bravest youth, myself the seventh, 
In dreadful opposition to the foe ; 
E'er yet the violent and tumultuous cry 
Calls me perforce to join the fiery conflict. 

Chor. Guard, ye great Gods, O guard our wall, 
Nor let the towers of Cadmus fall ! 

Strophe. 

Before my sad presaging soul 
What scenes of imaged horror roll ! 
I see the tender virgin's woe, 
E'er yet her ripened beauties glow ; 
The hateful way I see her tread, 

Forcibly torn from her sweet home : 
Happier, far happier are the dead ; 

They rest within the silent tomb. 



184 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

But, the walls humbled to the ground, 
What dreadful mis'ries rage around ! 
Furious one leads the vengeful bands ; 
One stains with blood his reeking hands ; 
Wide roll, outrageous to destroy, 

The dusky smoke, and torrent fires ; 
Whilst slaughtering Mars with hideous joy 

The heaven- contemning rage inspires. 

Axtistrophe. 

From house to house, from street to street, 
The crashing flames roar round, and meet ; 
Each way the fiery deluge preys, 
And girds us with the circling blaze. 
The brave, that 'midst these dire alarms 

For their lost country greatly dare, 
And fired with vengeance rush to arms, 

Fall victims to the blood stain'd spear. 
The bleeding babe with innocent cries, 
Drops from his mother's breast, and 

dies. 
See rapine rushes, bent on prey, 
His hasty step brooks no delay. 
The spoiler, loaded with his store, 

Envious the loaded spoiler views ; 
Disdains another should have more, 
And his insatiate toil renews. 
Semi-ch. See, from his watch the veteran returns, 
Bearing, I ween, fresh tidings from yon host, 
Of highest import : quick his foot, and hasty. 
Semi-ch. This way, behold, the son of (Edipus, 
The king himself advances, pressing on 
His hurried step to learn their new-form'd 
measures. 



the seven chiefs against thebes. lsj 
Eteocles, Soldier, Chorus*. 

Sold. Already near the Prsetian gate in arms 

Stands Tydeus raging ; for the prophet's voice 
Forbids his foot to pass Ismenus' stream, 
The victims not propitious : at the pass 
Furious, and eager for the fight, the chief, 
Fierce as the dragon when the midday sun 
Calls forth his glowing terrors, raves aloud, 
Reviles the sage, as forming tim'rous league 
With war and fate. Frowning he speaks, and 

shakes 
The dark crest streaming o'er his shaded helm 
In triple wave ; whilst dreadful ring around 
The brazen bosses of his shield, impress'd 
With this proud argument. A sable sky 
Burning with stars ; and in the midst full- 

orb'd 
A silver moon, the eye of night, o'er all, 
Awful in beauty, pours her peerless light. 
Clad in these proud habiliments, he stands 
Close to the river's margin, and with shouts 
Demands the war, like an impatient steed, 
That pants upon the foaming curb, and waits 
With fiery expectation the known signal, 
Swift as the trumpet's sound to burst away. 
Before the Preetian gate, its bars removed, 
What equal chief wilt thou appoint against him ? 

Eteo. This military pride affects me not : 

The gorgeous blazonry of arms, the crest 

* Nothing can be more poetical, or less dramatic, than the 
whole of this remarkable scene, the descriptions are vivid and 
beautiful, but in direct violation of that requisite of tragedy that 
its imitation shall be " in the way not of narration but of action." 



186 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

High waving o'er the helm, the clanging boss, 
Harmless without the spear, imprint no wound. 
The sable night, spangled with golden stars, 
On his proud shield impress'd, perchance may 

prove 
A gloomy presage. Should the shades of 

night 
Fall on his dying eyes, the boastful charge 
May to the bearer be deem'd ominous, 
And he the prophet of his own destruction. 
Against his rage the son of Astacus, 
Who breathes deliberate valour, at that gate 
Will I appoint commander ; bent on deeds 
Of glory, but a votary at the shrine 
Of modesty, he scorns the arrogant vaunt 
As base, but bids brave actions speak his worth. 
The flower of that bold stem, w T hich from the 

ground 
Rose arm'd, and fell not in the dreadful fight, 
Is Melanippus ; him his parent earth 
Claims as her own, and in her natural right 
Calls him to guard her from the hostile spear*: 
But the brave deed the die of war decides. 
Sold. May the Gods crown his valiant toil with 

conquest. 
But Capaneus against the Electran gates 
Takes his allotted post and towering stands 
Vast as the earth-born giants, and inflamed 
To more than mortal daring : horribly 
He menaces the walls ; may Heaven avert 

* As Melanippus here put forward against Tydeus, and Me- 
gareus afterwards opposed to Eteoclus, were both of the dragon-race, 
which sprang armed from the earth, there is a peculiar propriety 
in calling them forth to defend their fostering mother. 



THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 187 

His impious rage ! vaunts that, the Gods as- 
senting 
Or not assenting, his strong hand shall rend 
Their rampires down ; that e'en the rage of 

Jove 
Descending on the field should not restrain him. 
His lightnings, and his thunders wing'd with 

fire 
He likens to the sun's meridian heat. 
On his proud shield portrayed, a naked man 
Waves in his hand a blazing torch ; beneath 
In golden letters, I will fire the city *. 
Against this man — But who shall dare t' en- 
gage 
His might, and dauntless his proud rage sus- 
tain ? 
Eteo. Advantage frdm advantage here arises. 

The arrogant vaunts, which man's vain tongue 

throws out, 
Shall on himself recoil. This haughty chief 
Threats high, and prompt to execute his 

threats 
Spurns at the Gods, opes his unhallowed lips 
In shallow exultation, hurls on high, 
Weak mortal as he is, 'gainst Jove himself 
Hurls his extravagant and wild defiance. 
On him, I trust, the thunder wing'd with fire, 
Far other than the sun's meridian heat, 
Shall roll its vengeance. But against his pride, 
Insolent vaunter, shall the glowing spirit, 
That burns for glory in the daring breast 

* The man being naked marks the contempt with which Capa- 
neus treated the enemy, and implies that he needed no armour to 
enable him to attack and tire the citv. 



188 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Of Polyphontes, be opposed ; his arm, 
Strong in Diana's tutelary aid, 
Shall be a sure defence. But to thy tale ; 
Who next before our gates assumes his station ? 

Chor. Yes, let him perish, the proud foe, 

That storms, in savage hope, the vanquish'd 

town, 
And rends its rampires down. 
Him first may Heaven's almighty sire, 
Rolling his vengeful fire, 
Dash in the flaming ruin low * ; 
Ere his impetuous spear 
Bursts ev'ry bar of my retreat, 
And from my virgin seat 
Drags me perforce from all my soul holds dear. 

Sold. Third from the brazen helm leap'd forth the 
lot 
Of fierce Eteoclus, who takes his post 
Against the gates of Neis : there he whirls 
His fiery-neighing steeds, that toss their heads 
Proud of their nodding plumes, eager to rush 
Against the gates, and snorting champ their 

curbs 
Boss'd with barbaric pride. No mean device 
Is sculptured on his shield, a man in arms, 
His ladder fix'd against the enemies' walls, 
Mounts, resolute to rend their rampires down ; 
And cries aloud, the letters plainly marked, 
Not Mars himself shall beat me from the 

towers. 
Appoint some chief of equal hardihood 
To guard thy city from the servile yoke. 

* Capaneus does perish by lightning accordingly. 



THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 189 

Eteo. Such shall I send, to conquest send him ; one 
That bears not in his hand this pageantry 
Of martial pride. The hardy Megareus, 
From Creon sprung, and that bold race which 

rose 
Embattled from the earth : him from the gates 
The furious neighings of the fiery steeds 
Affright not ; but his blood spilt on the earth 
Amply requites the nourishment she gave him ; 
Or, captive both, the man in arms, the town 
Stormed on the sculptured shield, and the proud 

bearer, 
Shall w r ith their spoils adorn his father's house. 
Sold. At the next gate, named from the martial 

Goddess 
Onca Minerva, stands Hippomedon *. 
I heard his thund'ring voice, I saw his form 
In bulk and stature proudly eminent ; 
I saw him roll his shield, large, massy, round, 
Of broad circumference : it struck my soul 
With terror. On its orb no vulgar artist 
Expressed this image, a Typhoeus huge, 
Disgorging from his foul and soot-grimed jaws, 
In fierce effusion, wreaths of dusky smoke, 
Signal of kindling flames : its bending verge 
With folds of twisted serpents border'd round. 

* Of the other gates we find no satisfactory account to lay be- 
fore the reader : but the scholiast here observes that Onca was 
one of the titles of Minerva at Thebes, which Cadmus intro- 
duced from Phoenicia, where she was so called. The scholiast on 
the second Olympic ode of Pindar asserts, that Cadmus erected 
at *Oyxou, a village in Boeotia, a statue of Pallas, who was there- 
fore worshipped under the title of 'Oyxaia ; hence (it is said,) the 
Irish Ogham. 



190 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

With shouts the giant-chief provokes the war ; 
And in the ravings of outrageous valour 
Glares terror from his eyes. Behoves thee 

then 
Strong opposition to his fiery rage, 
Which at the gates e'en now spreads wild dis- 
may. 
Eteo. First, Onca Pallas, holding near the gates 
Her hallowed state, abhors his furious rage, 
And in her guardian care shall crush the pride 
Of this fell dragon. Then the son of iEnops, 
Hyperbius, of approved and steady valour, 
Shall man to man oppose him ; one that dares 
Encounter fate in the rough shock of battle ; 
In form, in spirit, and in martial arms 
Consummate ; such high grace Hermes con- 

ferr'd. 
In hostile arms thus man shall combat man, 
And to the battle on their sculptured shields 
Bring adverse Gods ; the fierce Typhoeus he, 
Breathing forth flakes of fire ; Hyperbius bears 
The majesty of Jove securely throned, 
Grasping his flaming bolt : and who e'er saw 
The Thund'rer vanquish'd ? In the fellowship 
Of friendly Gods, the conquerors are with us, 
They with the conquer'd ; and with like event 
These warriors shall engage ; as Jove in fight 
Subdued the fell Typhoeus, so his form 
Emblazon'd on the shield shall guard Hyper- 
bius. 
Chor. If aught of truth my soul inspires, 

This chief, that towering o'er th' affrighted 

field 
Bears on his sculptured shield 



THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 191 

The enormous monster, buried deep 
Beneath a mountainous heap, 
Rolling in vain his turbid fires, 
Monster accursed, abhorr'd 
By Gods above, by men below ; 
This chief his head shall bow 
Low at the gate beneath the victor's sword. 
Sold. Prophetic be thy hopes. At the north gate, 
Yet hear me, king, the fifth bold warrior takes 
His station, near the tomb where honour'd lies 
Jove-born Amphion*: By his spear he swears, 
Which, as he grasps, he dares to venerate 
More than a God, and dearer to his eyes 
Than the sweet light of heaven : by this he 

swears, 
To level with the ground the walls of Thebes, 
Though Jove himself oppose him. Thus exclaims 
This beauteous branch sprung from a mountain 

nymph -J*, 
Blooming in manly youth ; the tender down 
Of unripe age scarce sprouting on his cheek ; 
But ruthless are his thoughts, cruel his eye, 
And proudly vaunting at the gate he takes 
His terrible stand. Upon his clashing shield, 
Whose orb sustains the storm of war, he bears 
The foul disgrace of Thebes, a rav'nous 

sphinx J, 

* Amphion, the son of Jupiter and Antiope, having received a 
lute from Mercury, was so excellent a musician, that according to 
the fable, by the mngic of his playing he brought the stones to- 
gether with which the tower of Thebes was built. 

f Parthenopaeus was son of Meieager and Arcadian Atatanta. 

J The story of the Sphinx will be explained in the (Edipus of 
Sophocles. 



192 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Fix'd to the plates ; the burnish'd monster 

round 
Pours a portentous gleam ; beneath her lies 
A Theban, mangled by her cruel fangs. 
'Gainst this let each brave arm direct the spear. 
No hireling he, to prostitute for gold 
The war, or shame the length of way he trod, 
E'en from Arcadia : such this stranger comes 
Parthenopseus, and repays to Argos 
Its hospitable honours, 'gainst these towers 
Breathing proud menaces. The Gods avert 
them ! 
Eteo. That ruin, which their fierce aspiring thoughts 
With impious vaunts intend, may the just Gods 
Turn on themselves, total defeat, and shame ; 
So let them perish ! To this proud Arcadian 
No boaster we oppose ; but one whose hand 
Knows its rough work, Actor, the valiant bro- 
ther 
Of him last named. Never will he permit 
The tongue, without the assay of warlike deeds, 
To rush within the gates, and execute 
Its ruinous threats ; nor him, whose hostile 

shield 
Bears sculptured that abhorr'd and rav'ning 

beast : 
And many a thund'ring stroke with stern re- 
buke 
Shall check her proud advances to the walls. 
Soon shall the fav'ring Gods confirm these 
hopes. 
Chor. These words appal my throbbing breast : 
And the light tansies of my braided hair 
Rise upright with my fear, 



THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 193 

As from the impious foes around 
These dreadful voices sound, 
Furious with thund'ring threats express'd. 
Ye Powers that rule on high, 
Scatter their dreaded forces wide, 
Or let their crested pride 
Low in the dust beneath our rampires lie ! 
Sold. The sixth brave chief, that with the golden 
curb 
Of prudence knows to check his gen'rous va- 
lour, 
The fate-foretelling seer, Amphiaraus, 
At the Omoiaean gate his destined post 
Assumes in arms, and on the fiery Tydeus 
Throws many a keen reproach, reviles him as 
A homicide, the troubler of the state, 
The mighty author of all ill to Argos, 
With murder and the furies at his heels 
Urging Adrastus to these hateful deeds. 
Thy brother Polynices, with him leagued 
In these despiteful acts, he blames aloud, 
Descants upon his name, and thus rebukes him, 
" How grateful to the Gods must be this deed, 
Glorious to hear, and in the roll of fame 
Shining to distant ages, thus to lead 
These foreign arms to waste thy bleeding 

country, 
To raze those princely mansions, where thy 

fathers, 
Heroes and demigods, once held their seats ! 
But say thy cause is just, will justice dry 
Thy mother's tears? And when the furious 
spear, 

o 



194 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Hurl'd by thy hand, shall pierce thy country's 

bosom, 
Will she with friendly arms again receive thee ? 
Prescient of fate I shall enrich this soil, 
Sunk in the hostile plain. But let us fight. 
One meed at least is mine : I will not find 
A vulgar, or dishonourable death." 
So spoke the prophet ; and with awful port 
Advanced his massy shield, the shining orb 
Bearing no impress : for his gen'rous soul 
Wishes to be, not to appear, the best ; 
And from the culture of his modest worth 
Bears the rich fruit of great and glorious deeds. 
Him let the virtuous and the wise oppose ; 
For dreadful is the foe that fears the Gods. 
Eteo. I mourn the destiny, that blends the just 
With these unhallow'd wretches. Nothing 

worse 
In any cause, than impious fellowship ; 
Nothing of good is reap'd, for when the field 
Is sown with wrong, the ripen'd fruit is death. 
If with a desperate band, whose hearts are hot 
With villany, the pious hoist his sails, 
The vengeance of the Gods bursts on the bark 
And sinks him with the heav'n-detested crew. 
If 'midst a race, inhospitably bent 
On savage deeds, regardless of the Gods, 
The just man fix his seat, the impending wrath 
Spares not, but strikes him with vindictive fury, 
Crush'd in the general ruin. So this seer, 
Of temper'd wisdom, of unsullied honour, 
Just, good, and pious, and a mighty prophet, 
Despite his better judgment join'd in arms 



THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 195 

With men of impious daring, bent to tread 
The long, irremeable way, with them 
Shall, if high Jove assist us, be dragg'd down 
To joint perdition. Ne'er shall he advance 
Against our gates, withheld, not by base fear 
Or cowardice of soul, but that he knows 
His fate, (if Phoebus aught of truth foretels,) 
To fall in fight : he loves then to be silent, 
Since what the time demands he cannot speak. 
Yet against him the strength of Lasthenes, 
Who from the stranger's inroad guards our gates, 
Shall I oppose : in manhood's vig'rous prime 
He bears the providence of age ; his eye 
Quick as the lightning's glance ; before his 

shield 
Flames his protended spear, and longs t' obey 
His hand. But victory is the gift of Heaven. 
Chor. That gift, ye great immortal Powers, 

On the brave guardians of our state bestow ; 

On each victorious brow 

The radiant honour bind ! Oh, hear 

A virgin's pious prayer ; 

Chase the proud strangers from our towers ; 

Or headlong let them fall, 
(Thy red right hand, almighty Sire, 
Rolling its vengeful fire,) 

In flaming ruin stretch'd beneath our wall ! 
Sold. The seventh bold chief — Forgive me that I 

name 
Thy brother, and relate the horrible vows, 
The imprecations, which his rage pours forth 
Against high Thebes — burning to mount the 

walls, 
And from their turrets to this land proclaim, 

o 2 



196 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Rending its echoes with the song of war, 
Captivity : to meet thee sword to sword, 
Kill thee, then die upon thee : if thou livest, 
T' avenge on thee his exile and disgrace 
With the like treatment : thund'ring vengeance 

thus, 
The rage of Polynices calls the Gods 
Presiding o'er his country, to look down 
And aid his vows. His well-orb'd shield he 

holds, 
New-wrought, and with a double impress 

charged : 
A warrior, blazing all in golden arms, 
A female form of modest aspect leads, 
Expressing justice, as th' inscription speaks, 
Yet oxce more to his country, and oxce more 
to his paterxal throxe, i will restore him.. 
Such their devices. But th' important task, 
Whom to oppose against his force, is thine. 
Eteo. How dreadful is the hatred of the Gods ! 
Unhappy sons of CEdipus, your fate 
Claims many a tear. Ah me ! my father's curse 
Now stamps its vengeance deep. But to lament, 
Or sigh, or shed the tear, becomes me not, 
Lest more intolerable grief arise. 
Ill-omen'd name ! * be Polynices told, 
Soon shall we see how far his blazon'd shield 
Avails ; how far inscriptions wrought in gold, 
With all their futile vauntings, will restore him. 
If Justice, virgin daughter of high Jove, 
Had ever form'd his mind, or ruled his ac- 
tions, 

* The name Polvnices signifies " much contention/' 



THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 197 

This might have been : but neither when his 

eyes 
First saw the light of life ; nor in the growth 
Of infancy ; nor in th' advancing years 
Of youth ; nor in the riper age, that clothes 
With gradual down the manly cheek, did Justice 
E'er deign t' instruct, or mark him for her own. 
Nor now, I ween, in this his fell intent 
To crush his country, will her presence aid him : 
For Justice were not justice, should she favour 
Th' injurious outrage of his daring spirit. 
In this confiding I will meet his arms 
In armed opposition : Who more fit ? 
Chief shall engage with chief, with brother 

brother, 
And foe with foe. Haste, arm me for the fight, 
Bring forth my greaves, my hauberk and my 
spear. 
Chor. Ah, whither dost thou rush ? Let not re- 
venge, 
That filled with fury shakes the blood-stained 

sword, 
Transport thee thus. Check this hot tide of 

passion. 
Cruel and murd'rous is the rage that fires thee 
To deeds of death, to unpermitted blood ; 
And sorrow is the bitter fruit it yields. 
Eteo. My father's imprecations rage, and haunt 
My sleep : too true the vivid visions rise, 
And wave the bloody sword that parts his king- 
doms. 
His dreadful curse, a stern, relentless fury, 
Rolling her tearless eyes, looks on and tells me 
Glory pursues her prize, disdaining fate, 



198 greek dramatic poets. 

Chorus. 
The first ill deed from Laius sprang : 

Thrice from his shrine these words of fate 
Awful the Pythian Phoebus sang, 

" Die childless, wouldst thou save the 
state ". 
Urged by his friends, as round the free wine flows, 
To Love's forbidden rites he flies. 
By the son's hand the father dies. 
He in the chaste ground, whence he rose, 
Was bold t' implant the deadly root * ; 
And madness rear'd each baleful-spreading shoot. 
Wide o'er misfortune's surging tide 

Billows succeeding billows spread ; 
Should one, its fury spent, subside, 
Another lifts its boist'rous head, 
And foams around the city's shatter'd prow. 
But should the rough tempestuous wave 
Force through our walls, too slight to save, 
And lay the thin partition low, 
Will not the flood's resistless sway 
Sweep kings and people, town and realms away ? 
The dreadful curse pronounc'd of old 
To vengeance rouses ruthless hate ; 
And slaughter, ranging uncontroll'd, 
Pursues the hideous work of fate. 
Wreck'd in the storm, the great, the brave, the 
wise 
Are sunk beneath the roaring tide. 
Such was the chief, this city's pride, 
Dear to each God in yon bright skies, 

* This, and what follows, is in allusion to the revolting mis- 
fortune of QEdipus, whose story the reader will find at large in 
Sophocles. 



THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 199 

Whose prudence took our dread away, 
The rav'ning monster gorged with human prey *. 
Where now the chief? His glories where ? 

Fall'n, fall'n. From the polluted bed 
Indignant madness, wild despair, 
And agonizing grief succeed. 
The light of heaven, himself, his sons abhorr'd, 
Darkling he feeds his gloomy rage, 
Bids them, with many a curse, engage, 
And part their empire with the sword. 
That curse now holds its unmoved state, 
The furious fiend charged with the work of fate. 

Soldier, Chorus. 
Sold. Have comfort, virgins, your fond parents' 

joy; 

All at six gates is well : but at the seventh 
The God, to whom that mystic number 's sa- 
cred -j~ , 
Royal Apollo, took his awful stand, 
Repaying on the race of CEdipus 
The ill-advised transgression of old Laius. 
Chor. What new affliction hath befall'n Thebes I 
Sold. The city is preserved : the brother kings 
Are fall'n, each slaughter'd by the other's 
hand. 

* The Sphinx, from which CEdipus delivered Thebes. 

\ *E(&o pay tree; ' ' AxoWw. — Hesiod tells us that the seventh 
is a sacred day, because on that day Latona brought forth Apollo 
with the golden sword; this mention of the "mystic number" 
seven, is one of those Pythagorean doctrines alluded to in the 
chapter on the life and works of iEschylus. Pythagoras is sup- 
posed to have borrowed it from the Egyptians, who founded their 
notion of this being the full harmonic number, on some reference 
to the seven planets known to them. 



200 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Chor. Who ? What ? Thy words distract my sense 

with fear. 
Sold. Be calm, and hear. The sons of (Edipus — 

It is indeed too certain — hoth are dead ; 

Brother by brother's hands, dreadfully slain. 
Chor. And has one common fate involved them 

both? 
Sold. To both the rigid steel, forged in the mines 

Of Scythia, shares their whole inheritance ; 

And each receives but that small tract of earth, 

Which serves him for a tomb; their father's 
curse, 

Fatally cruel, sweeps them both away. 

The city is preserved ; but the dust drinks 

The brothers' blood, each by th' other slain. 

The Chorus, scarcely pausing to thank the Gods 
for their deliverance of the state, then bewails the 
hapless fate of the two brothers, slain, as they deem, 
by their father's curse. Amid their lamentations 
the dead bodies of Eteocles and Polynices are borne 
in upon the stage, and with them come Antigone 
and Ismene, sisters of the dead princes. The Chorus 
then divides into hemichoria, and they sing a long 
and varied funeral hymn for the departed, in al- 
ternate strains, which after some time is taken up 
and concluded by Ismene and Antigone in their 
stead. Meanwhile a herald enters, and the following 
scene ensues : — 

Antigone, Chorus, Herald. 

Her. My office leads me to proclaim the mandate 
Of the great rulers of the Theban state. 
Eteocles, for that he loved his country* 



THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 201 

They have decreed with honour to inter. 
To shield her from her foes he fought, he fell, 
Her sacred rites revered, unstain'd with blame, 
Where glory calls the valiant youth to bleed, 
He bled. Thus far of him it is decreed. 
Of Polynices, that his corpse shall lie 
Cast out unburied, to the dogs a prey ; 
Because his spear, had not the Gods opposed, 
Threaten'd destruction to the land of Thebes. 
In death the vengeance of his country's Gods 
Pursues him, for he scorn'd them, and presumed 
To lead a foreign host, and storm the town. 
Be this then his reward, to lie exposed 
To rav'nous birds, unhonour'd, of the rites * 

* Denial of the rites of sepulture was considered by the ancients 
as the greatest of all calamities, even more deplorable than death 
itself; as we have abundant testimony both in sacred and profane 
history. Bishop Warburton ascribes the prevalence of this opinion 
to the judicious policy of the Egyptians. "Those profound mas- 
ters of wisdom ", he observes, " in projecting for the common 
good, found nothing would more contribute to the safety of their 
fellow-citizens than the public and solemn interment of the dead ; 
as without this provision private murders might be easily and se- 
curely perpetrated. They therefore introduced the custom of 
pompous funeral rites : to secure these by the force of religion, as 
well as civil custom, they taught that the deceased could not retire 
to a place of rest till they were performed." Div. Leg. Vol. I. 
The habit of considering the loss of burial among the worst of 
human miseries, seems however to have had a much higher ori- 
gin than even the wisdom of the Egyptians, unless we should 
imagine Moses to have borrowed it thence. In the XXVIIIth 
chapter of the book of Deuteronomy, we find him enumerating to 
the Israelites among the curses that should follow disobedience, 
" The Lord shall cause thee to be smitten before thine enemies, 
and thy carcass shall be meat unto all the fowls of the air, and 
unto the beasts of the earth, and no man shall fray them away." 
The important influence of this belief among the Greeks is also 



202 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

That grace the dead, libations at the tomb, 
The solemn strain that 'midst the exequies 
Breathes from the friendly voice of woe, de- 
prived. 
These are the mandates of the Theban rulers. 

Ant. And to these Theban rulers I declare, 
If none besides dare bury him, myself 
Will do that office, heedless of the danger, 
And think no shame to disobey the state, 
Paying the last sad duties to a brother. 
I, though a woman, will prepare his tomb, 
Dig up the earth, and bear it in this bosom, 
In these fine folds, to cover him. Go to : 
I will not be opposed. A sister's love 
Shall devise means to execute the task. 

Her. I charge thee not t' offend the state in this. 

Ant. I charge thee waste not words on me in vain. 

Her. Self-will'd and rash ! I bear thy answer back. 

Antigone, Chorus. 

1st. Semi. With what a ruthless and destructive rage 
The Furies hurl their vengeful shafts around, 
And desolate the house of QEdipus ! 
What then remains for me ? and how resolve ? 
Can I forbear to mourn thee, to attend 
Thy obsequies ? Yet duty to the state, 

apparent both in the "Suppliants" of Euripides, the plot of. 
which hinges on this circumstance, and in the Ajax of Sopho- 
cles, the last act of which, as Wakefield has observed, is extend- 
ed after the death of the hero, purely to satisfy the audience that 
he obtained the honours of burial, and the whole of the distress 
turns upon this very point. The same observation applies to 
the last book of the Iliad., and furnishes the justification of the poet 
for extending the action beyond the death of Hector. 



THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 20.) 

And reverence to its mandates, awe my soul. 
Thou * shalt have many to lament thy fall : 
Whilst he f, unwept, unpitied, unattended, 
Save by a sister's solitary sorrows, 
Sinks to the shades. Approve you this resolve ( 
2d. Semi. To those that wail the fate of Polynices 
Let the state act its pleasure. We will go, 
Attend his funeral rites, and aid his sister 
To place him in the earth. Such sorrows move 
The common feelings of humanity ; 
And, where the deed is just, the state approves. 

* Eteocles. f Polynices. 



END OF THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 



PROMETHEUS CHAINED. 



PERSONS OF THE DRA31A. 

PROMETHEUS. 

OCEANUS. 

MERCURY. 

CHORUS of SEA-NYMPHS. 



PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF iESCHYLUS. 207 



INTRODUCTION. 

According to the Theogony of Hesiod, Chaos was 
the ancestor of nature. Next to him were Ouranos 
and Gaia, or Heaven and Earth. Among the nu- 
merous progeny of this ancient pair were Oceanus 
and Iapetus. Oceanus married Tethys, who bore 
to him the Oceanides, or Sea-nymphs, of whom Ia- 
petus married one, named Clymene. She gave birth 
to Atlas, Epimetheus, and Prometheus. iEschylus 
wrote three plays on the story of the latter. The 
subject of the first was the stealing of the celestial 
spark, and carrying back to mortals the sacred gift 
of fire, of which Jupiter had in his wrath deprived 
them. The second contains his punishment ; and 
in the third he is rescued by Hercules, who killed 
the vulture set to prey upon his liver, and delivered 
him from bondage. Of these tragedies, the second 
only remains : it opens with the allegorical person- 
ages Strength and Force, sons of Styx and the giant 
Pallas, traversing the pathless wilds of Scythia with 
Prometheus in custody, whom they drag up the wild 
and desolate cliff of Caucasus, and compel Vulcan 
to gibbet him there, according to the command of 
Jove, to wither in the wind and sun, undying, for 
the space of thirty thousand years. 

Even Mulciber is moved to pity, and deplores the 
victim's misery while he rivets his chains, but Strength 
remains inexorable, and taunts the sufferer with the 



208 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS* 

bitterest reproaches and derision, while he urges on 
the work. At length, when every fetter is securely 
rivetted, they depart, and Prometheus, who had 
hitherto observed a disdainful silence, now bursts 
forth into the following indignant soliloquy : 



Prometheus, alone. 

Ethereal air, and ye swift- winged winds ! 
Ye rivers springing from fresh founts, ye waves, 
That o'er the interminable ocean wreathe 
Your crisped smiles, thou all-producing earth, 
And thee, bright sun, I call, whose naming orb 
Views the wide world beneath, see what, a god, 
I suffer from the gods ; with what fierce pains, 
Behold, what tortures for revolving ages 
I here must struggle ; such unseemly chains 
This new-raised ruler of the gods devised. 
Ah me ! That groan bursts from my anguish'd 

heart, 
My present woes and future to bemoan. 
When shall these sufferings find their destined 

end ? 
But why that vain inquiry ? My clear sight 
Looks through the future ; unforeseen no ill 
Shall come on me : behoves me then to bear 
Patient my destined fate, knowing how vain 
To struggle w T ith necessity's strong power. 
But to complain, or not complain, alike 
Is unavailing ; since for favours shown 
To mortal man I bear this weight of woe. 
Hid in a hollow cane the fount of fire 
I privately convey'd, of ev'ry art 
Productive, and the noblest gift to men : 



PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF ^SCHYLUS. 209 

And for this slight offence, woe, woe is me ! 
I bear these chains, fix'd to this savage rock, 
Unsheltered from the sharp, inclement air. 
Ah me ! what sound, what softly-breathing 

odour 
Steals on my sense ? Be you divinities, 
Or mortal men, or of th' heroic race, 
Whoe'er have reach'd this wild rock's extreme 

cliff, 
Spectators of my woes, or what your purpose, 
Ye see me bound, a wretched god, abhorr'd 
By Jove, and ev'ry god that treads his courts, 
For my fond love to man. Ah me ! again 
I hear the sound of flu tt' ring nigh ; the air 
Pants to the soft beat of light-moving wings : 
All, that approaches now, is dreadful to me. 

Prometheus, Chorus. 

Chor. Forbear thy fears : a friendly train 
On busy pennons flutt'ring light, 
We come, our sire not ask'd in vain, 
And reach this promontory's height. 
The clanging iron's horrid sound 
Re-echoed through our caves profound ; 

And though my cheek glows with shame's crim- 
son dye, 

Thus with unsandall'd foot* with winged speed 
I fly. 

* The nymphs of the waters wore no sandals ; hence Thetis is 
a 1 , styled by Homer the goddess with the snowy feet. The 
near relationship of the Oceanides to Prometheus, suggested the 
propriety of making them the persons of the chorus. The}' emerge 
from the sea, over which frowned the rifted crag where Prometheus 
was impaled. 

P 



210 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Prom. Ye virgin sisters, who derive your race 
From fruitful Thetis, and th' embrace 
Of old Oceanus, your sire, that rolls 
Around the wide world his unquiet waves, 
Turn here your friendly eyes, behold 
With what a chain fix'd to this rugged steep 
My tort'ring vigils on the rock I keep. 
Chor. Alas ! I see, and weep in vain, 

I see thy adamantine chain ; 

In its strong grasp thy limbs confined, 

And parching in the withering wind : 
Such the stern power of heav'n's new-sceptred 

lord, 
And law-controlling Jove's irrevocable word. 
Prom. Had his stern fury fix'd this rigid chain 
Beneath the gulfs of Tartarus, that spread 
Interminable o'er the dead, 
Nor gods nor man had triumph'd in my pain : 
But, pendent in th' ethereal air, 
The pageant gratifies my ruthless foes, 
Who gaze, insult, and glory in my woes. 
Chor. Is there a god, whose sullen soul 

Feels a stern joy in thy despair ? 

Owns he not pity's soft control, 

And drops in sympathy the tear ? 

All, all, save Jove ; with fury driven 

Severe he tames the sons of heaven ; 
And he will tame them, till some power arise 
To wrest from his strong hand the sceptre of 

the skies. 
Prom. Yet he, e'en he, 

That o'er the gods holds his despotic reign, 

And rivets this disgraceful chain, 

Shall need my aid, the counsels to disclose 



PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF JESCHYLUS. 211 

Destructive to his honour and his throne. 

But not the honied blandishment, that flows 

From his alluring lips, shall aught avail ; 

His rigid menaces shall fail ; 

Nor will I make the fatal secret known, 

Till his proud hands this galling chain unbind, 

And his remorse sooths my indignant mind. 

Chor. But say, relate at large for what offence 
Committed, doth the wrath of Jove inflict 
This punishment so shameful, so severe : 
Instruct us, if the tale sting not thy soul. 

Prom. 'Tis painful to relate it, to be silent 
Is pain : each circumstance is full of woe. 
When stern debate amongst the gods appear'd, 
And discord in the courts of heaven was roused ; 
While against Saturn some conspiring will'd 
To pluck him from the throne, that Jove might 

reign ; 
And some, averse, with ardent zeal opposed 
Jove's rising pow T 'r and empire o'er the gods ; 
My counsels, though discreetest, wisest, best, 
Moved not the Titans, those impetuous sons 
Of Ouranus and Terra, whose high hearts, 
Disdaining milder measures, proudly ween'd 
To seize by force the sceptre of the sky. 
Oft did my goddess mother, Themis now, 
Now Gaia, under various names design'd, 
Herself the same, foretell me the event, 
That not by violence, that not by power. 
But gentler arts, the royalty of heaven 
Must be obtain'd. Whilst thus my voice advised, 
Their headlong rage deio-n'd me not e'en a look,. 
What then could wisdom dictate, but t' obey 
My mother, and with voluntary aid 



212 

Abet the cause of Jove ? Thus by my counsels 
In the dark deep Tartarean gulph inclosed 
Old Saturn lies, and his confederate powers. 
For these good deeds the tyrant of the skies 
Repays me with these dreadful punishments. 
For foul mistrust of those that serve them best 
Breathes its black poison in each tyrant's heart. 
Ask you the cause for which he tortures me ? 
I will declare it. On his father's throne 
Scarce was he seated, when upon the chiefs 
Of heaven he show'r'd down honours, to con- 
firm 
His royalty ; but for unhappy mortals 
Had no regard, and all the present race 
Will'd to extirpate, and to form anew. 
None, save myself, opposed his will ; I dared ; 
And boldly pleading saved them from destruc- 
tion, 
Saved them from sinking to the realms of night. 
For this offence I bend beneath these pains, 
Dreadful to suffer, piteous to behold : 
For mercy to mankind I am not deem'd 
Worthy of mercy ; but with ruthless hate 
In this uncouth appointment am fix'd here. 

Chor. Of iron is he form'd and adamant, 

Whose breast with social sorrow does not melt 
At thy afflictions : I nor wish'd to see, 
Nor can behold them without heartfelt an- 
guish. 
But had the offence no further aggravation ? 

Prom. I hid from men the foresight of their fate. 

Chor. What couldst thou find to remedy that ill ? 

Prom. I sent blind Hope to live within their hearts. 

Chor. A blessing hast thou given to mortal man. 



PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF iESCHYLUS. 213 

Prom. Nay more, with generous zeal I gave them 
Fire. 

Chor. Do mortals now enjoy the blazing gift ? 

Prom. And by it shall give birth to various arts. 

Chor. For such offences doth the wrath of Jove 
Thus punish thee, relaxing nought of pain ? 
And is no bound prescribed to thy affliction ? 

Prom. None else, but when his own will shall in- 
cline. 

Chor. Who shall incline his will? Hast thou no 
hope ? 
Bethink thee how thy ills may find an end. 

Prom. How easy, when the foot is not entangled 
Jn misery's thorny maze, to give advice 
And precepts to the afflicted ! Of these ills 
I was not unforewarned. But cease your grief, 
Wail not my present woes ; on the rough point 
Of this firm cliff descend, and there observe 
What further may betide me, e'en the whole 
Of my hard fate ; indulge me, O indulge 
This my request, and sympathize with me. 

Chor. Not to the unwilling are thy words addressed. 
With light foot now this nimbly-moving seat, 
This pure air, through whose liquid fields the 

birds 
Winnow their wanton way, I leave ; and now 
Alight I on this rude and craggy rock, 
Anxious to hear all thy unhappy tale. 

Enter Oceanus, riding on a hippogriff. 

Oceanus, Prometheus, Chorus. 

Ocea. Far distant, through the vast expanse of air, 
To thee, Prometheus, on this swift- wing'd steed, 



214 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Whose neck unrein'd obeys my will, I come, 
In social sorrow sympathizing with thee. 
To this the near affinity of blood 
Moves me ; and be assured, that tie apart, 
There is not who can tax my dear regard 
Deeper than thou : believe me this is truth, 
Not the false glozings of a flatt'ring tongue. 
Instruct me then how I may aid thy cause, 
For never shalt thou say thou hast a friend 
More firm, more constant than Oceanus. 
Prom. Ah me ! What draws thee hither ? Art thou 

come 
Spectator of my toils ? How hast thou ventured 
To leave the ocean waves, from thee so call'd, 
Thy rock-roof'd grottoes arch'd by nature's 

hand, 
And land upon this iron-teeming earth ? 
Comest thou to visit and bewail my ills ? 
Behold this sight, behold this friend of Jove, 
The assertor of his empire, bending here 
Beneath a weight of woes by him inflicted. 
Ocea. I see it all, and wish to counsel thee, 

W r ise as thou art, to milder measures : learn 
To know thyself; new model thy behaviour, 
As the new monarch of the gods requires. 
What if thy harsh and pointed speech should 

reach 
The ear of Jove, though on his distant throne 
High-seated, might they not inflame his rage 
To inflict such tortures, that thy present pains 
Might seem a recreation and a sport ? 
But now I go, and will exert my power, 
If haply I may free thee from thy pains. 
Meanwhile be calm ; forbear this haughty tone : 






PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF AESCHYLUS. 215 

Has not thy copious wisdom taught thee this, 
That mischief still attends the petulant tongue 1 
Prom. Congratulate thy fortune, that on thee 

No blame hath lighted, though associate with me 
In all, and daring equally. But now 
Forbear, of my condition take no care ; 
Thou wilt not move him ; nothing moves his 

rigour : 
Take heed then, lest to go bring harm on thee. 
Ocea. Wiser for others than thyself I find 

Thy thoughts ; yet shalt thou not withhold my 

speed. 
And I have hopes to free thee from these tor- 
tures. 
Prom. For this thou hast my thanks ; thy courtesy 
With grateful memory ever shall be honour'd. 
But think not of it, the attempt were vain, 
Nor would thy labour profit me ; cease then, 
And leave me to my fate : however wretched, 
I wish not to impart my woes to others. 
Ocea. No ; for thy brother's fate, the unhappy Atlas, 
Afflicts me : on the western shore he stands, 
Supporting on his shoulders the vast pillar 
Of heaven and earth, a weight of cumbrous 

grasp. 
Him too, the dweller of Cilicia's caves, 
I saw, with pity saw, Earth's monstrous son, 
With all his hundred heads subdued by Force, 
The furious Typhon, who 'gainst all the gods 
Made war ; his horrid jaw r s with serpent-hiss 
Breathed slaughter, from his eyes the Gorgon 

glare 
Of baleful lightnings flash'd, as his proud 
force 



216 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Would rend from Jove his empire of the 
sky. 

But him the vengeful bolt, instinct with fire, 

Smote sore, and dash'd him from his haughty 
vaunts, 

Pierced through his soul* and withered all his 
strength. 

Thus stretch'd out huge in length beneath the 
roots 

Of iEtna, near Trinacria's narrow sea, 

Astonied, blasted, spiritless he lies ; 

On whose high summit Vulcan holds his seat, 

And forms the glowing mass. In times to 
come 

Hence streams of torrent-fire with hideous 
roar 

Shall burst, and with its wasteful mouths de- 
vour 

All the fair fields of fruitful Sicily. 

Such rage shall Typhon, blasted as he is 

With Jove's fierce lightning, pour incessant 
forth 

In smoking whirlwinds and tempestuous flame. 
Prom. Thou art not inexperienced, nor hast need 

Of my instruction ; save thyself, how best 

Thy wisdom shall direct thee. I will bear 

My present fate, till Jove's harsh wrath re- 
lents. 
Ocea. Thy misery shall be my monitor. 
Prom. Go then, be cautious, hold thy present judge- 
ment. 
Ocea. Thy words add speed to my despatch. Long 
since 

My plumed steed his levell'd wings displays, 



PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF JESGHYLUS. 217 

To fan the liquid air, through fond desire 
In his own lodge his wearied speed to rest. 

Exit. 
Prometheus, Chorus. 

Chor. For thee I heave the heart- felt sigh, 

My bosom melting at thy woes ; 
For thee my tear- distilling eye 

In streams of tender sorrow flows : 
For Jove's imperious ruthless soul, 
That scorns the power of mild control, 
Chastens with horrid tort'ring pain 
Not known to gods before his iron reign. 
E'en yet this ample region o'er 

Hoarse strains of sullen woe resound, 
Thy state, thy brothers'* state deplore, 

Age-honoured glories ruined round. 
Thy woes, beneath the sacred shade 
Of Asia's pastur'd forests laid, 
The chaste inhabitant bewails 
Thy groans re-echoing through his plaintive 

vales. 
The Colchian virgin, whose bold hand 

Undaunted grasps the warlike spear ; 
On earth's last verge the Scythian band, 

The torpid lake Mseotis near ; 
Arabia's martial race, that wield 
The sharp lance in th' embattled field, 
Through all their rock-built cities moan, 
The crags of Caucasus return the groan. 
One other, ere thy galling chain, 

Of heaven's high sons with tortures quell'd, 

* Prometheus had two brothers suffering under the extremity 
of Jove's vengeance, Menoetius cast into Tartarus, and Atlas, con- 
demned to bear the heavens on his shoulders. 



218 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

That rack each joint, each sinew strain, 

Titanian Atlas I beheld ; 
His giant strength condemn'd to bear 
The solid, vast, and pond'rous sphere. 
The springs whose fresh streams swell 

around, 
The hoarse waves from their depths pro- 
found, 
And all the gloomy realms below, 
Sigh to his sighs, and murmur to his woe. 
Prom. It is not pride ; deem nobler of me, virgins ; 
It is not pride, that held me silent thus ; 
The thought of these harsh chains, that hang 

me here, 
Cuts to my heart. Yet who, as I, advanced 
To their high dignity our new raised gods ? 
But let me spare the tale, to you well known. 
The ills of man you 've heard. I formed his 

mind, 
And through the cloud of barb'rous ignorance 
Diffused the beams of knowledge. I will 

speak, 
Not taxing them with blame, but my own 

gifts 
Displaying, and benevolence to them. 
They saw indeed, they heard ; but what avail'd 
Sight, or the sense of hearing ? all things rolled 
Like the unreal imagery of dreams, 
In wild confusion mix'd. The lightsome wall 
Of finer masonry, the rafter'd roof 
They knew not ; but, like ants still buried, 

delved 
Deep in the earth, and scoop'd their sunless 
caves. 



PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF iESCHYLUS. 2\ ( J 

Unmark'd the seasons changed, stern Winter 

passed, 
Flower-perfumed Spring, ripe Summer, mellow 

Autumn, 
Unheededly away. Chance ruled their works. 
Till I instructed them to mark the stars, 
Their rising, and, a harder science yet, 
Their setting. The rich train of marshall'd 

numbers 
I taught them, and the meet array of letters. 
To impress these precepts on their hearts I 

sent 
Memory, the active mother of all wisdom. 
I taught the patient steer to bear the yoke, 
In all his toils joint-labourer with man. 
By me the harness'd steed was train'd to whirl 
The rapid car, and grace the pride of wealth. 
The tall bark, lightly bounding o'er the waves. 
I taught its course, and wing'd its riving sail. 
To man I gave these arts ; yet want I now 
With all my wisdom that one useful art 
To free myself from these afflicting chains. 
Chor. Unseemly are thy sufferings, sprung from 

error 
And impotence of mind. And now inclosed 
With all these ills, as some unskilful leach 
That sinks beneath his malady, thy soul 
Desponds, nor seeks medicinal relief. 
Prom. Hear my whole story, thou wilt wonder more. 
What useful arts, what science I invented. 
This first and greatest : when the fell disease 
Preyed on the human frame, relief was none, 
Nor healing drug, nor cool refreshing draught. 
Nor pain assuaging unguent ; but they pined 



220 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS; 

Without redress, and wasted, till I taught 
To mix the balmy medicine, full of power 
To chase each pale disease, and soften pain. 
I taught the various modes of prophecy, 
What truth the dream portends, the omen what, 
Of nice distinction, what the casual sight 
That meets us on the way ; the flight of birds, 
When to the right, when to the left they take 
Their airy course, their various ways of life, 
Their feuds, their fondnesses, their social 

flocks. 
I taught the haruspex to inspect the entrails, 
Their smoothness, and their colour to the gods 
Grateful, the gall, the liver streak'd with veins, 
The limbs involved in fat, and the long chine 
Placed on the blazing altar ; from the smoke 
And mounting flame to mark th' unerring omen. 
These arts I taught. And all the secret wealth 
Deep buried in the bowels of the earth, 
Brass, iron, silver, gold, their use to man* 
Let the vain tongue make what high vaunts it 

may, 
Are my inventions all ; and, in a word, 
Prometheus taught each useful art to man. 
Chor. Let not thy love to man o'erleap the bounds 
Of reason, nor neglect thy wretched state : 
So my fond hope suggests thou shalt be free 
From these base chains, nor less in power than 
Jove. 
Prom. Not thus, it is not in the Fates that thus 

These things should end : crush'd with a thou- 
sand wrongs, 
A thousand woes, I shall escape these chains. 
Necessity is stronger far than art. 



PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF /ESCHYLUS. 221 

Chor. Who then is ruler of necessity ? 

Prom. The triple Fates and unforgetting Furies. 

Chor. Must Jove then yield to their superior power? 

Prom. No more of this discourse ; it is not time 
Now to disclose that which requires the seal 
Of strictest secresy ; by guarding which 
I shall escape the misery of these chains. 

CHORUS. 

Strophe. 

Never, never may my soul 

Jove's all-ruling power defy ; 

Never feel his harsh control, 

Sovereign ruler of the sky. 

When the hallow 'd steer has bled*, 

When the sacred feast is spread, 

'Midst the crystal waves below, 

Whence father Ocean's boundless billows 

flow, 
Let not my foot be slow : 
There, th' ethereal guests among, 
No rude speech disgrace my tongue ; 
•May my mind this rev'rence keep ; 
Print it strong, and grave it deep. 

Antistrophe. 

When through life's extended scene 
Hope her stedfast lustre throws, 
Swells the soul with joy serene, 
With sublimest triumph glows. 

f The Chorus here alludes to the solemn annual festival which 
the gods held with Oeeanus, father of these nymphs, and at which 
they shewed their piety and reverence by their attendance and mi- 
ll istrv. Pauw. 



Z%% GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Seest thou this pure lustre shine ! 

Are these heart-felt raptures thine ( 

My cold blood curdles in my veins, 

To see thy hideous woes, thy tort'ring pains. 

And adamantine chains. 

Thy free soul, untaught to fear, 

Scorned the danger, threatening near : 

And for mortals dared defy 

The sovereign monarch of the sky. 

Epode. 

Vain thy ardour, vain thy grace, 
They nor force nor aid repay ; 
Like a dream man's feeble race, 
Short-lived reptiles of a day. 
Shall their weak devices move 
Th' order'd harmony of Jove ? 
Touch"d with pity of thy pain, 
All sad and slow I pour the moral strain ; 
Changed from that melting vein, 
When the light mellifluous measure 
Round thy bath, and round thy bed 
For our sea-nymph sister spread, 
Awoke young love and bridal pleasure, 
And poured the soul of harmony, 
To greet the bright Hesione. 

Here the poet introduces Io, daughter oflnachus, 
whom Jupiter, to conceal from the jealousy of Juno 
transformed into a heifer ; but the goddess disco- 
vering her disguise, sent Argus to watch her, and 
one of the furies, in the shape of a winged insect 
called a brvze, to hunt her through the world tor- 



PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF JESCHYLUS. 223 

tured by its sting, and in her maddened flight she 
reaches Caucasus. At the entreaty of the Chorus 
she tells her tale to them and to Prometheus, of 
whose kindred she was, as Inachus, her father, w T as 
the son of Oceanus and Tethys. The Titan's son 
takes occasion to rail at large on the cruelty and ty- 
ranny of Jove, while he foretells all her future wan- 
derings and misfortunes. In her peregrinations she 
is to visit, in the eastern regions of Scythia, three 
old hags, daughters of Phorcys, whose story will 
remind the reader of an Arabian tale. 

One common eye have these, one common 

tooth, 
And never does the sun with cheerful ray 
Visit them darkling, nor the moon's pale orb 
That silvers o'er the night. The Gorgons 

nigh, 
Their sisters these, spread their broad wings, 

and wreathe 
Their horrid hair with serpents, fiends ab- 

horr'd, 
Whom never mortal could behold, and live. 

He prophesies that lb shall cross the Maeotic 
strait, which thence is to be called the Bosphorus, 
or passage of the heifer, as the /onian sea should 
also be so named from her. Finally, he describes 
her numerous descendants and their various exploits, 
not the least of which is, that one, (Hercules,) 

"Third of her race, first numb'ring ten descents," 

should release him from his pains, sent by the will 
of Jove, when he learns that an ill-starred and fatal 



224 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

marriage is impending over him, unless he be fore- 
warned by Prometheus how to avert the calamity. 

Then follows an ode of the Chorus, suggested by 
the tale of Io, on the miseries of ill-matched or am- 
bitious love, and the impossibility of resisting the 
will of Jupiter, upon which Prometheus thus re- 
sumes : 

Prom. Yet shall this Jove, with all his self-will'd 

pride, 
Learn humbler thoughts, taught by that fatal 

marriage, 
Which from the lofty throne of sovereign rule 
Shall sink him to a low and abject state, 
And on his head fulfil his father's curse, 
The curse of Saturn, vented in that hour, 
"When from his ancient royalty he fell. 
Of all the gods not one, myself except, 
Can warn him of his fate, and how to shun 
Th' impending ruin. I know all, and how. 
Let him then sit, and glorying in his height 
Roll with his red right hand his volley'd thunder 
Falsely secure, and wreathe his bick'ring flames. 
Yet nought shall they avail him, nor prevent 
His abject and dishonourable fall. 
Such rival adversary forms he now 
Against himself, prodigious in his might, 
And unassailable ; whose rage shall roll 
Flames that surpass his lightnings, fiercer bolts 
That quash his thunders ; and from Neptune's 

hand 
Dash his trined mace, that from the bottom 

stirs 
The troubled sea, and shakes the solid eartru 



PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF iESCHYLUS, 225 

Crush'd with this dreadful ruin shall he learn 
How different to command and to obey. 
Chor. Thy ominous tongue gives utterance to thy 

wish. 
Prom. It is my wish, and shall be ratified. 
Chor. Dost thou not fear, vaunting this bold de- 
sire ? 
Prom. What should I fear, by Fate exempt from 

death ? 
Chor. But he may add fresh tortures to thy pain. 
Prom. Let him then add ; I wait and scorn them all. 
Chor. Wise they, who reverence the stern power of 

vengeance. 
Prom. Go then, with prompt servility fall down 

Before your lord, fawn, cringe, and sue for 

grace. 
For me, I value him at less than nothing. 
Let him exert his brief authority, 
And lord it whilst he may ; his power in 

heaven 
Shall vanish soon, nor leave a trace behind. — 
But see, his messenger hastes on amain, 
The obsequious lackey of this new-made mo- 
narch : 
He comes, I ween, the bearer of fresh tidings. 

Mercury, Prometheus, Chorus. 

Merc To thee, grown old in craft, deep drench'd 
in gall, 
Disgustful to the gods, too prodigal 
Of interdicted gifts to mortal man, 
Thief of the fire of heaven, to thee my mes- 
sage. 
My father bids thee say what nuptials these 

Q 



226 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Thy tongue thus vaunts as threat'ning his high 

power ; 
And clearly say, couch'd in no riddling phrase, 
Each several circumstance ; propound not 

then 
Ambiguous terms, Prometheus ; for thou seest 
Jove brooks not such, unfit to win his favour. 
Prom. Thou doest thy message proudly, in high 
terms, 
Becoming well the servant of such lords. 
Your youthful power is new ; ye vainly deem 
. Your high raised towers impregnable to pain. 
Have I not seen two sovereigns of the sky * 
Sink from their glorious state ? And I shall 

see 
A third, this present lord, with sudden ruin 
Dishonourably fall. What, seem I now 
To dread, to tremble at these new-raised gods ? 
That never shall their force extort from me. 
Hence then, the way thou earnest return with 

speed : 
Thy vain inquiries get no other answer. 
Merc. Such insolence before, so fiery fierce, 

Drew on thy head this dreadful punishment. 
Prom. My miseries, be assured, I would not change 
For thy gay servitude, but rather choose 
To live a vassal to this dreary rock, 
Than lackey the proud heels of Jove. These 

words, 
If insolent, your insolence extorts. 
Merc Truly thou seem'st delighted with thy woes. 

* Ouranus dethroned by his son Saturn, and Saturn again by 
his son Jupiter. 



PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF AESCHYLUS. 227 

Prom. Delighted ! Might I see mine enemies 

Delighted thus ! And thee I hold among them. 
Merc. And why blame me for thy calamities ? 
Prom. To tell thee in a word, I hate them all, 

These gods ; well I deserved of them, and 

they 
Ungrateful and unjust, work me these ills. 
Merc. Thy malady, I find, is utter madness. 
Prom. If to detest my enemies be madness, 

It is a malady I wish to have. 
Merc. Were it well with thee, who could brook thy 

pride ? 
Prom. Time, as its age advanceth, teaches all things. 
Merc. All its advances have not taught thee wisdom. 
Prom. True, else I should not thus waste words on 

thee. 
Merc. Why am I check'd, why rated as a boy ? 
Prom. A boy ! thou art more simple than a boy, 
If thou hast hopes to be inform'd by me. 
Not all his tortures, all his arts shall move me 
To unlock my lips, till this cursed chain be 

loosed. 
No, let him hurl his flaming lightnings, wing 
His whitening snows, and with his thunders 

shake 
The rocking earth, they move not me to say 
What force shall wrest the sceptre from his 
hand *. 



* Jupiter was in love with Thetis, daughter of Oceanus, 
It was in the fates, though known to Prometheus alone, that the 
son of Thetis should be greater than his father. This is the se- 
cret disclosed by him on his release. Thetis was given to Peleus, 
and the prophecy fulfilled in Achilles. 



228 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Merc. Weigh these things well, will these unloose 

thy chains ? 
Prom. Well have they long been weigh' d, and well 

consider'd. 
Merc. Subdue, vain fool, subdue thy insolence, 

And let thy miseries teach theejuster thoughts. 

Prom. Thy counsels, like the waves that dash against 

The rock's firm base, disquiet but not move 

me. 
Conceive not of me that, through fear what 

Jove 
May in his rage inflict, my fix'd disdain 
Shall e'er relent, e'er suffer my firm mind 
To sink to womanish softness, to fall prostrate, 
To stretch my supplicating hands, entreating 
My hated foe to free me from these chains. 
Far be that shame, that abject weakness from 
me. 
Merc I see thou art implacable, unsoften'd 
By all the mild entreaties I can urge ; 
But like a young steed rein'd, that proudly 

struggles, 
And champs his iron curb, thy haughty soul 
Abates not of its unavailing fierceness. 
But pride, disdaining to be ruled by reason, 
Sinks weak and valueless. Now mark me well, 
If not obedient to my words, a storm, 
A fiery and inevitable deluge 
Shall burst in threefold vengeance on thy head. 
First, his fierce thunder wing'd with lightning 

flames 
Shall rend this rugged rock, and cover thee 
With hideous ruin : long time shalt thou lie 
Astonied in its rifted sides, till dragg'd 



PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF ^SCHYLUS. 229 

Again to light ; then shall the bird of Jove, 
The rav'ning eagle, lured with scent of blood, 
Mangle thy body, and each day returning, 
An uninvited guest, plunge his fell beak, 
And feast and riot on thy black'ning liver. 
Expect no pause, no respite, till some god 
Comes to relieve thy pains, willing to pass 
The dreary realms of ever-during night, 
The dark descent of Tartarus profound. 
Weigh these things well : this is no fiction drest 
In vaunting terms, but words of serious truth. 
The mouth of Jove knows not to utter false- 
hood, 
But what he speaks is fate. Be cautious then, 
Regard thyself; let not o'erweening pride 
Despise the friendly voice of prudent counsel. 
Chor. Nothing amiss we deem his words, but 
fraught 
With reason, who but wills thee to relax 
Thy haughty spirit, and by prudent counsels 
Pursue thy peace : be then advised ; what shame 
For one so wise to persevere in error ? 
Prom. All this I knew e'er he declared his mes- 
sage, 
That enemy from enemy should suffer 
Extreme indignity, is nothing strange. 
Let him then work his horrible pleasure on me ; 
Wreathe his black curling flames, tempest the 

air 
With volley'd thunders and wild warring winds, 
Rend from its roots the firm earth's solid base, 
Heave from the roaring main its boisterous 

waves, 
And dash them to the stars ; me let him hurl, 



230 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Caught in the fiery tempest, to the gloom 
Of deepest Tartarus ; not all his power 
Can quench the ethereal breath of life in me. 

Merc. Such counsels, such wild vaun tings might you 
hear, 
From moon-struck madness raving to the 

winds. 
Were he at ease, would he abate his phrensy ? 
But you, whose gentle hearts with social sorrow 
Melt at his suff 'rings, from this place remove, 
Remove with speed, lest the tempestuous roar 
Of Jove's fierce thunder strike your souls with 
horror. 

Chor. To other themes, to other counsels turn 

Thy voice, where pleaded reason may prevail : 
This is ill urged, and may not be admitted. 
Wouldst thou solicit me to deeds of baseness ? 
Whate'er betides, with him will I endure it. 
The vile betrayer I have learn'd to hate ; 
There is no fouler stain, my soul abhors it. 

Merc Remember you are warn'd ; if ill betide 
Accuse not Fortune, lay not blame on Jove, 
As by his hand sunk in calamities 
Unthought of, unforeseen : no, let the blame 
Light on yourselves ; your folly not unwarn'd, 
Not unawares, but 'gainst your better know- 
ledge, 
Involved you in the inextricable toils. 

Prom. He fables not ; I feel in very deed 

The firm earth rock ; the thunder's deep'ning 

roar 
Rolls with redoubled rage ; the bick'ring flames 
Flash thick ; the eddying sands are whirled on 
high; 



PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF JESCHYLUS. 231 

In dreadful opposition the wild winds 

Rend the vex'd air ; the boist'rous billows rise 

Confounding sea and sky ; th' impetuous storm 

Rolls all its terrible fury on my head. 

Seest thou this, awful Themis ; and thou, Ether, 

Through whose pure azure floats the general 

stream 
Of liquid light ? you see what wrongs I suffer ! 



END OF PROMETHEUS CHAINED. 



The Prometheus is perhaps the most exquisite of 
all the " high imaginings " that remain to us of the 
genius of iEschylus. There is a moral grandeur 
that cannot be surpassed in the spectacle of intel- 
lectual energy defying and triumphing over all the 
might of nature, exhibited in the most fearful ago- 
nies of bodily pain. If the end of tragedy be to 
purify the affections by subduing the senses to the 
soul, and to teach the calm endurance of misery by 
a hopeful anticipation of the period when "this 
tyranny shall be overpast," this drama more ef- 
fectually attains its end, and more powerfully em- 
bodies that sublime sentiment, than any other un- 
inspired composition of antiquity* We must ever 
bear in mind, however, that all which the most sub- 
lime efforts of the Pagan philosophy could teach, was 
to bear evils with fortitude because they were in- 
evitable. That " hope which is full of immortality " 
it was incapable of reaching, and it was reserved 
for revelation to inform us that patient submission 



232 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

to the divine will is the discipline appointed by Hea- 
ven, as the means of forming in us that character 
and disposition which may fit us for the future en- 
joyment, through faith, of "a far more exceeding 
and eternal weight of glory." 

To inspire the people with a hatred of tyranny 
was probably the more immediate object of the poet, 
and this was a sentiment which could not fail to be 
popular as well as patriotic in such a state as 
Athens. 



THE 



PERSIANS. 



PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. 

ATOSSA. 
MESSENGER. 
GHOST OF DARIUS. 
XERXES. 

CHORUS, the PERSIAN COUNCIL OF 
STATE. 



THE PERSIANS OF .ESCHYLUS. 235 



INTRODUCTION. 



The subject of this play has been already noticed 
in the life of iEschylus. The Persians had been 
wholly defeated at Marathon by most dispropor- 
tionate numbers. To wipe off this disgrace, Xerxes 
invaded Greece in person, at the head of an amazing 
armament, with which he meant to overwhelm all 
resistance. The first check he received in his ca- 
reer was at the famous pass of Thermopylae, where 
Leonidas, at the head of a small Greek force, suc- 
cessfully resisted his efforts to penetrate the defile, 
for three successive days, till he was betrayed by 
the perfidy of Ephialtes, a Trachinian, who led a 
detachment of the Persians by a secret path up the 
western ridge of mountains, from which they fell 
upon the rear of Leonidas, and cut to pieces his 
little band, now reduced to 300 Spartans and a 
small body of Thespians. Not a man survived. 
Having thus forced the pass of Thermopylae, Xerxes 
wasted Attica and set fire to Athens, which had 
been deserted at his approach. The Greeks retired 
into Troezene and Salamis. But their leaders, un- 
der the command of Eurybiades, were reluctant to 
engage in a conflict in which, from the overwhelm- 
ing force of the enemy, they anticipated only defeat. 
During this indecision, Themistocles, fearful of the 
defection of some of the squadrons, and eager to 
prevent the voluntary dispersion of the Grecian 



236 INTRODUCTION TO 

powers, resolved upon a very extraordinary mea- 
sure. He secretly sent a trusty messenger to the 
Persian fleet, with certain intelligence of the dis- 
sensions that prevailed among the allied chiefs, and 
apprising the Asiatic admiral that if the present op- 
portunity of destroying the Greek navy were ne- 
glected, such another might never again occur. 
That very night, in consequence of this intelligence, 
the Persian fleet formed in a crescent, stretching 
from the point of Salamis to the port of Munychia : 
the Egyptian squadron was detached to block up the 
western passage, a force was landed upon the little 
island Psyttaleia to aid such Persian vessels as might 
be driven upon it, and infest those of Greece, and 
the Attic shore was lined with troops to co-operate 
with the naval forces. By day-break (it was the 
20th Oct. b.c. 480.), the whole armament was in 
motion : as the sun rose, trumpets sounded, paeans 
were sung, and the Grecian leaders, forced by ne- 
cessity to exertion, used every effort to excite 
anions their forces that courage and animation which 
their timid and divided counsels hitherto had so 
tended to repress. A trireme returning from iEgina, 
and shut out from her companions by the enemy's 
line, endeavoured to force a passage ; she was at- 
tacked, and an Athenian galley, commanded by 
Ameinias, brother of our poet, advanced to the 
rescue. The engagement soon became general and 
raged with unabated fury, till the combined 
squadrons of Athens and iEgina broke through the 
Persian line, close to the galley which began the 
fight. Numbers of Persian vessels, not yet called 
into action, now pressed on to support their coun- 
trymen, and by their forward zeal contributed rather 



THE PERSIANS OF ^SCHYLUS. 237 

to disorder than assist them, while the Greeks pre- 
served the steadiest discipline, though straining every 
nerve for victory. Many of the Ionian troops in 
the service of the Persian secretly favoured the 
struggles of their countrymen, the confusion be- 
came general in the unwieldy armament ; such ves- 
sels as could disengage themselves before being sunk 
or taken, escaped by flight, and the sea was scarcely 
visible through the heaps of wreck and corpses 
with which it was strewn. Amid the total rout, 
Aristides, who had returned from exile at iEgina 
only the night before, landed a body of Athenians 
on Psyttaleia, and put the Persians there to the 
sword, before the eyes of their helpless monarch. 

The surviving Asiatics, deprived of supplies by 
the destruction of their fleet, attempted to re- 
treat through Bceotia and Thessaly into Thrace ; 
but they had no victuals. Other sustenance failing, 
they ate the grass of the field and the bark and 
leaves from the trees. In the words of Herodotus, 
" they left nothing." iEschylus has added, " none 
of them was left." Most of those who escaped the 
ravages of hunger and pestilence perished by the 
sword. 

Atossa, who makes so prominent a figure in this 
noble tragedy, was the daughter of Cyrus the Great, 
and is by some supposed to be the Vashti of Scripture. 

The scene of the tragedy is at Susa, in front of 
the building in which the Persian council of state 
assembled. The reader will bear in mind that the 
Chorus is composed of members of this state- 
council. 



3 greek dramatic poets. 

Chorus. 

Whilst o'er the fields of Greece th' embattled 

troops 
Of Persia march, with delegated sway 
We o'er their rich and gold-abounding seats 
Hold faithful our firm guard; to this high charge 
Xerxes, our royal lord, th' imperial son 
Of great Darius, chose our honour'd age. 
But for the king's return, and his arm'd host 
Blazing with gold, my soul presaging ill 
Swells in my tortured breast : for all her force 
Hath Asia sent, and for her youth I sigh. 
No horseman spurs, nor messenger arrives 
With tidings to this seat of Persia's kings. 
The gates of Susa and Ecbatana 
Pour'd forth their martial trains ; and Cissia sees 
Her ancient towers forsaken, whilst her youth, 
Some on the bounding steed, the tall bark some 
Ascending, some with painful march on foot, 
Haste on, t' arrange the deep'ning files of war. 

Strophe 1. 

Already o'er the adverse strand 

In arms the monarch's martial squadrons spread ; 

Wide-threatening ruin shakes the land, 
And each tail city bows its tower'd head. 

Bark bound to bark, their wond'rous way 

They bridge across the indignant sea ; 
The narrow Hellespont's vex'd waves disdain, 
His proud neck taught to wear the chain. 
Now has the peopled Asia's warlike lord, 

By land, by sea, with foot, with horse, 

Resistless in his rapid course, 
O'er all their realms his warring thousands 
pour'd ; 



THE PERSIANS OF iESCHYLUS. 239 

Now his intrepid chiefs surveys, 
And glitt'ring like a god his radiant state dis- 
plays. 

Antistrophe 1. 

Fierce as the dragon scaled in gold 
Through the deep files he darts his glowing eye ; 

And pleased their order to behold, 
His gorgeous standard blazing to the sky, 

Rolls onward his Assyrian car, 

Directs the thunder of the war, 
Bids the wing'd arrows' iron storm advance, 
Against the slow and cumbrous lance. 
What shall withstand the torrent of his sway, 

When dreadful o'er the yielding shores 

Th' impetuous tide of battle roars, 
And sweeps the weak-opposing mounds away ? 
So Persia with resistless might 
Rolls her unnumber'd hosts of heroes to the 

fight. 

Epode. 

Crush'd beneath th' assailing foe, 
Her golden head must Cissia bend ; 

Whilst her pale virgins, frantic with despair, 
Through all her streets awake the voice of 
woe ; 

And, flying with their bosoms bare, 

Their purfled stoles in anguish rend : 

For all her youth in martial pride, 

Like bees that, clust'ring round their king, 
Their dark embodied squadrons bring, 

Attend their sceptred monarch's side, 
And stretch across the wat'ry way 
From shore to shore their long array. 



240 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 



The Persian dames with many a tender fear 

In grief's sad vigils pass the midnight hour ; 
Shed on the widow'a couch the streaming tear, 

And the long absence of their loves deplore. 
Each lonely matron feels her pensive breast 

Throb with desire, with aching fondness 
glow, 
Since in bright arms her daring warrior drest, 

Left her to languish in her love-lorn woe. 

Enter Atossa. 
Behold our monarch's mother, goddess-like ! 
Imperial consort of Darius, hail ! 
But yonder speeds a Persian messenger, 
See where he comes, betokening by his haste 
Tidings of high import, for good or ill. 

AtossA, Chorus, Messenger. 

Mess. Woe to the towns thro' Asia's peopled realms ! 
Woe to the land of Persia, once the port 
Of boundless wealth, how is thy glorious state 
Vanish'd at once, and all thy spreading honours 
Fall'n, lost ! Ah me ! unhappy is his task 
That bears unhappy tidings : but constraint 
Compels me to relate this tale of woe. 
Persians, the whole barbaric host is fall'n. 

Chor. O horror, horror ! What a baleful train 
Of recent ills ! Ah Persians, as he speaks 
Of ruin, let your tears stream to the earth. 

Mess. It is e'en so, all ruin ; and myself, 

Beyond all hope returning, view this light. 

Chor. How tedious and oppressive is the weight 
Of age, reserved to hear these hopeless ills ! 

Mess. I speak not from report ; but these mine eyes 
Beheld the ruin which my tongue would utter. 



„ 









TPIE PERSIANS OF jESCHYLUS. 541 

Chor. Woe, woe is me ! Then has the iron storm, 
That darken' d from the realms of Asia, pour'd 
In vain its arrowy shower on sacred Greece. 
Mess. In heaps th' unhappy dead lie on the strand 

Of Salamis, and all the neighbouring shores. 
Chor. Unhappy friends, sunk, perish'd in the sea ; 
Their bodies, 'midst the wreck of shatter' d 

ships, 
Mangled, and rolling on th' encumber'd waves ! 
Mess. Nought did their bows avail, but all the 
troops 
In the first conflict of the ships were lost. 
Chor. Raise the funereal cry, with dismal notes 
Wailing the wretched Persians. Oh, how ill 
They plann'd their measures, all their army 
perish'd ! 
Mess. O Salamis, how hateful is thy name ! 

And groans burst from me when I think of 
Athens. 
Chor. How dreadful to her foes ! Call to re- 
membrance 
How many Persian dames, wedded in vain, 
Hath Athens of their noble husbands widow'd ! 
Atos. Astonied with these ills, my voice thus long 
Hath wanted utterance : griefs like these ex- 
ceed 
The power of speech or question : yet e'en 

such, 
Inflicted by the Gods, must mortal man 
Constrain'd by hard necessity endure. 
But tell me all, without distraction tell me, 
All this calamity, though many a groan 
Burst from thy labouring heart. Who is not 
fallen ? 



242 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

What leader must we wail ? What sceptred 

chief 
Dying hath left his troops without a lord ? 

Mess. Xerxes himself yet lives, and sees the light. 

Atos. That word beams comfort on my house, a ray 
That brightens through the melancholy gloom. 

Mess. Artembares, the potent chief that led 

Ten thousand horse, lies slaughter'd on the 

rocks 
Of rough Silenias. The great Dadaces, 
Beneath whose standard march'd a thousand 

horse, 
Pierced by a spear, fell headlong from the ship. 
Tenagon, bravest of the Bactrians, lies 
Roll'd on the wave-worn beach of Ajax' isle. 
Lilasus, Arsames, Argestes, dash 
With violence in death against the rocks 
Where nest the silver Doves *. Arcteus, that 

dwelt 
Near to the fountains of ^Egyptian Nile, 
Adeues, and Pheresba, and Pharnuchus, 
Fell from one ship. Matallus, Chrysa's chief, 
That led his dark'ning squadrons, thrice ten 

thousand, 
On jet-black steeds, with purple gore distain'd 
The yellow of his thick and shaggy beard. 
The Magian Arabus, and Artames 
From Bactra, mould'ring on the dreary shore 
Lie low. Amistris, and Amphistreus there 
Grasps his war- wearied spear ; there prostrate 
lies 



* Salamis was the birth-place of Ajax and sacred to Venus, 
vhence ^Yhite doves are said to nestle there. 



THE PERSIANS OF AESCHYLUS. 243 

Th' illustrious Ariomardus ; long his loss 
Shall Sardis weep : the Mysian Sisames, 
And Tharybis, that o'er the burden'd deep 
Led five times fifty vessels ; Lerna gave 
The hero birth, and manly grace adorn'd 
His shapely form, but low in death he lies, 
Unhappy in his fate. Syennesis, 
Cilicia's warlike chief, who dared to front 
The foremost dangers, singly to the foes 
A terror, there too found a glorious death. 
These chieftains to my sad remembrance rise, 
Relating but a few of many ills. 

Atos. This is the height of ill, ah me ! and shame 
To Persia, grief, and lamentation loud. 
But what the number of the Grecian fleet, 
That in fierce conflict their bold barks should 

dare 
Rush to encounter with the Persian hosts ? 

Mess. Know that in numbers the Barbaric fleet 
Was far superior : in ten squadrons, each 
Of thirty ships, Greece plough'd the deep ; of 

these 
One held a distant station. Xerxes led 
A thousand ships ; their number well I know ; 
Two hundred more, and seven, that swept the 

seas 
With speediest sail : this was their full amount. 
And in th' engagement seem'd we not secure 
Of victory? But unequal fortune sunk 
Our scale in fight, discomfiting our host. 

Atos. The Gods preserved the city of Minerva. 

Mess. The walls of Athens are impregnable, 
Their firmest bulwarks her heroic sons. 

Atos. Which navy first advanc'd to the attack ? 

r2 



244 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 



Mess. Our evil Genius, lady, or some God 
Hostile to Persia, led to ev'ry ill. 
Forth from the troops of Athens came a Greek *, 
And thus address'd thy son, th' imperial 

Xerxes ; 
" Soon as the shades of night descend, the 

Greeks 
Will quit their station ; rushing to their oars 
They mean to separate, and in secret flight 
Seek safety." At these words the royal chief, 
Little conceiving of the wiles of Greece, 
And Gods averse, to all the naval leaders 
Gave his high charge ; " Soon as yon sun shall 

cease 
To dart his radiant beams, and dark'ning night 
Ascends the temple of the sky, arrange 
In three divisions your well-order'd ships, 
And guard each pass, each out-let of the seas : 
Others en-ring this sea-born rocky isle 
Of Salamis : should Greece escape her fate, 
And work her way by secret flight, your heads 
Shall answer the neglect." This harsh command 
He gave, exulting in his mind, nor knew 
What Fate design'd. With martial discipline 
And prompt obedience, snatching a repast, 
Each mariner fix'd well his ready oar. 
Soon as the golden sun was set, and night 
Advanced, each train'd to ply the dashing oar 
Assumed his seat ; in arms each warrior stood, 
Troop cheering troop through all the ships of 

war. 
Each to th' appointed station steers his course : 
And through the night his naval force each chief 
* See Introduction, p. 236. 






THE PERSIANS OF iESCHYLUS. 24-<5 

Fix'd to secure the passes. Night advanced, 
But not by secret flight did Greece attempt 
T' escape. The morn, all beauteous to behold, 
Drawn by white steeds bounds o'er th' en- 

lighten'd earth ; 
At once from every Greek with glad acclaim 
Burst forth the song of war, whose lofty notes 
The echo of the island rocks return'd, 
Spreading dismay through Persia's hosts thus 

fallen 
From their high hopes ; no flight this solemn 

strain 
Portended, but deliberate valour bent 
On daring battle, whilst the trumpet's sound 
Kindled the flames of war. But when their 

oars, 
The paean ended, with impetuous force 
Dash'd the resounding surges, instant all 
Rush'd on in view r ; in orderly array 
The squadron on the right first led, behind 
Rode their whole fleet ; and now distinct we 

heard 
From every part this voice of exhortation, 
11 Advance, ye sons of Greece, from thraldom 

save 
Your country, save your wives, your children 

save, 
The temples of your Gods, the sacred tombs 
Where rest your honour'd ancestors ; this day 
The common cause of all demands your 

valour." 
Meantime from Persia's hosts the deep'ning 

shout 
Answer'd their shout ; no time for cold delay ; 



24:6 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

But ship 'gainst ship its brazen beak impell'd. 
First to the charge a Grecian galley rush'd ; 
111 the Phoenician bore the rough attack, 
Its sculptur'd prow all shatter'd. Each ad- 
vanced 
Daring an opposite. The deep array 
Of Persia at the first sustain'd th' encounter ; 
But their throng'd numbers, in the narrow seas 
Confined, lacked room for action; and, de- 
prived 
Of mutual aid, beaks clash with beaks, and each 
Breaks all the other's oars : with skill disposed 
The Grecian navy circled them around 
With fierce assault ; and rushing from its height 
The inverted vessel sinks ; the sea no more 
Wears its accustomed aspect, with foul wrecks 
And blood disfigured . floating carcasses 
Roll on the rocky shores : the poor remains 
Of the barbaric armament to flight 
Ply every oar, inglorious : onward rush 
The Greeks amid the ruins of the fleet, 
As through a shoal of fish caught in the net, 
Spreading destruction : the wide ocean o'er 
Wailings are heard, and loud laments, till night 
With darkness on her brow brought grateful 

truce. 
Should I recount each circumstance of woe, 
Ten times on my unfinished tale the sun 
Would set ; for be assured that not one day 
Could close the ruin of so vast a host. 
Atos. Ah, what a boundless sea of woe hath burst 

On Persia, and the Asiatic race ! 
Mess. These are not half, not half our ills ; on these 
Came an assemblage of calamities, 



THE PERSIANS OF JESCHYLTJS. 247 

That sunk us with a double weight of woe. 

Atos. What fortune can be more unfriendly to us 
Than this ? Say on, what dread calamity 
Sunk Persia's host with greater weight of woe. 

Mess. Whoe'er of Persia's warriors glowed in prime 
Of vig'rous youth, or felt their generous souls 
Expand with courage, or for noble birth 
Shone with distinguish'd lustre, or excell'd 
In firm and duteous loyalty, all these 
Are fallen, ignobly, miserably fallen. 

Atos. Alas their ruthless fate, unhappy friends ; 
But in what manner, tell me, did they perish ? 

Mess. Full against Salamis an isle arises *, 

Of small circumference, to the anchor'd bark 
Unfaithful ; on the promontory's brow, 
That overlooks the sea, Pan loves to lead 
The dance : to this the monarch sent these 

chiefs, 
That when the Grecians from their shattered 

ships 
Should here seek shelter, these might hew them 

down 
An easy conquest, and secure the strand 
To their sea- wearied friends ; ill judging what 
The event ; but when the favouring God to 

Greece 
Gave the proud glory of this naval fight, 
Instant in all their glittering arms they leap'd 
From their light ships, and all the island round 
Encompassed, that our bravest stood dismay'd ; 

* Psyttaleia, a rough uncultivated rock between Salamis and 
the continent. Pan is always represented as haunting mountain 
tops and stony summits. 



248 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Whilst broken rocks, whirled with tempestuous 

force, 
And storms of arrows crushed them ; then the 

Greeks 
Rush to the attack at once, and furious spread 
The carnage, till each mangled Persian fell. 
Deep were the groans of Xerxes, when he saw 
This havoc ; for his seat, a lofty mound 
Commanding the wide sea, o'erlooked his 

hosts *■ 
With rueful cries he rent his royal robes, 
And through his troops embattled on the shore 
Gave signal of retreat ; then started wild, 
And fled disordered. To the former ills 
These are fresh miseries to awake thy sighs. 
Atos. Invidious Fortune, how thy baleful power 
Hath sunk the hopes of Persia ! Bitter fruit 
My son hath tasted from his purposed ven- 
geance 
On Athens famed for arms ; the fatal field 
Of Marathon, red with barbaric blood, 
Sufficed not ; that defeat he sought t' avenge, 
And plucked this hideous ruin on his head. 
But tell me, if thou canst, where didst thou leave 
The ships that happily escaped the wreck ? 
Mess. The poor remains of Persia's scattered fleet 
Spread every sail for flight, as the wind drives, 
In wild disorder. And on land no less 
The ruined army ; in Boeotia some, 
With thirst oppressed, at Crene's cheerful rills 

* Xerxes viewed this fight from ^gialus, a mountain on the 
opposite shore : the silver chair on which he sat, was afterwards 
placed in the temple of Minerva at Athens, and dedicated to that 
Goddess, as was the golden-hilted scymitar of Mardonius, 




1 G 



THE PERSIANS OF iESCHYLUS. 249 

Were lost ; fore-spent with breathless speed 

some pass 
The fields of Phocis, some the Doric plain, 
And near the gulf of Melia, the rich vale 
Through which Sperchius rolls his friendly 

stream. 
Achaia thence and the Thessalian state 
Received our famished train ; the greater part, 
Through thirst and hunger perished there, op- 
pressed 
At once by both : but we our painful steps 
Held onwards to Magnesia, and the land 
Of Macedonia, o'er the ford of Axius, 
And Bolbe's sedgy marshes, and the heights 
Of steep Pangaeos, to the realms of Thrace. 
That night, ere yet the season, stern and chill 
Rushed winter, and with ice encrusted o'er 
The flood of sacred Strymon : such as owned 
No God till now, awe-struck, with many a prayer 
Adored the earth and sky. When now the troops 
Had ceased their invocations to the Gods, 
O'er the stream's solid crystal they began 
Their march ; and we, who took our early way, 
Ere the sun darted his warm beams, passed 

safe ; 
But when his burning orb with fiery rays 
Unbound the middle current, down they sunk 
Each over other ; happiest he who found 
The speediest death : the poor remains, that 

'scaped, 
With pain through Thrace dragged on their toil- 
some march, 
A feeble few, and reached their native soil. 
Chor. O Fortune, heavy with- affliction's load, 



250 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

How hath thy foot crushed all the Persian race ! 
Xerxes sent forth the unwise command, 
The crowded ships unpeopled all the land ; 
That land, o'er which Darius held his reign, 
Courting the arts of peace, in vain, 
O'er all his grateful realms adored, 
The stately Susa's gentle lord. 
Black o'er the waves his burdened vessels sweep, 
For Greece elate the warlike squadrons fly ; 
Now crushed, and whelmed beneath the indig- 
nant deep 
The shattered wrecks and lifeless heroes lie : 
"Whilst, from the arms of Greece escaped, with 

toil 
The unsheltered monarch roams o'er Thracia's 
dreary soil. 
With sacred awe 
The Persian law 
No more shall Asia's realms revere ; 
To their lord's hand, 
At his command, 
No more the exacted tribute bear. 
Who now falls prostrate at the monarch's throne ? 

His regal greatness is no more. 
Now no restraint the wanton tongue shall own, 

Free from the golden curb of power ; 
For on the rocks, washed by the beating flood, 
His awe- commanding nobles lie in blood. 

Atossa, Chorus. 

Atos. W r hoe'er, my friends, in the rough stream of 
life 
Hath struggled with affliction, thence is taught 
That when the flood begins to swell, the heart 



THE PERSIANS OF .ESCHYLUS. 251 

Fondly fears all things : when the favouring 

gale 
Of fortune smooths the current, it expands 
With unsuspecting confidence, and deems 
That gale shall always breathe. So to my eyes 
All things now wear a formidable shape, 
And threaten from the Gods : my ears are 

pierced 
With sounds far other than of song. Such ills 
Dismay my sickening soul : hence from my 

house 
Nor glitt'ring car attends me, nor the train 
Of wonted state, whilst I return, and bear 
Libations soothing to the father's shade 
In the son's cause ; delicious milk, that foams 
White from the sacred heifer : liquid honey, 
Extracts of flowers ; and from its virgin fount 
The running crystal ; this pure draught, that 

flowed 
From th' ancient vine, of power to bathe the 

spirits 
In joy ; the yellow olive's fragrant fruit, 
That glories in its leaves' unfading verdure ; 
With flowers of various hues, earth's fairest 

offspring, 
Enwreathed. But you, my friends, amidst 

these rites 
Raise high your solemn warblings, and invoke 
Your lord, divine Darius : I meanwhile 
Will pour these ofF'rings to th' infernal Gods. 
Chor. Yes, royal lady, Persia's honoured grace, 
To earth's dark chambers pour thy off 'rings : 

We 
W r ith choral hymns will supplicate the powers 



252 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

That guide the dead to be propitious to us. 
And you, that o'er the realms of night extend 
Your sacred sway, thee mighty earth, and thee 
Hermes ; thee chief, tremendous king, whose 

throne 
Awes with supreme dominion, I adjure : 
Send, from your gloomy regions, send his shade 
Once more to visit this ethereal light ; 
That he alone, if aught of dread event 
He sees yet threat'ning Persia, may disclose 
To us poor mortals Fate's extreme decree. 
Great and good, Darius, rise : 
Lord of Persia's lord, appear : 
Thus invoked with thrilling cries 
Come, our tale of sorrow hear ! 
Woe her Stygian pennons spreads, 
Brooding darkness o'er our heads ; 
For stretched along the dreary shore 
The flower of Asia lies distained with gore. 
Rise, Darius, awful power, 
Long for thee our tears shall flow ; 
Why thy ruined empire o'er 
Swells this double flood of woe ? 
Sweeping o'er the azure tide 
Rode thy navy's gallant pride ; 
Navy now no more, for all 
Beneath the whelming wave ■ * 

Ghost of Darius, Atossa, Chorus. 

Dar. Ye faithful Persians, honoured now in age, 
Once the companions of my youth, what ills 

* The ghost of Darius here rises suddenly, and interrupts the 
unfinished hvmn. 






THE PERSIANS OF JESCHYLUS. 253 

Afflict the state? The firm earth groans, it 

opes, 
Disclosing its vast deeps ; and near rny tomb 
I see my wife : this shakes my troubled soul 
With fearful apprehensions ; yet her off 'rings 
Pleased I receive. And you around my grave 
Chanting the lofty strain, whose solemn air 
Draws forth the dead, with grief-attempered 

notes 
Mournfully call me : not with ease the way 
Leads to this upper air ; and the stern Gods, 
Prompt to admit, yield not a passage back 
But with reluctance : much with them my power 
Availing, with no tardy step I come. 
Say then, with what new ill doth Persia groan ? 
Chor. My wonted awe * o'ercomes me ; in thy pre- 
sence 
I dare not raise my eyes, I dare not speak. 
Dar. Since fear hath chained his tongue, high-ho- 
noured dame, 
Once my imperial consort, check thy tears, 
Thy griefs ; and speak distinctly. Mortal man 

* Nothing could be more agreeable to the republican spirit of 
the Athenians, than to see their proud invaders represented under 
this servile awe. The Persians, when they approached the royal 
presence, fell on their faces to the ground, as in this adoration of 
their king, they adored the image of God the preserver of all 
things. — But the Greeks had so great an abhorrence of this cus- 
tom, that Conon, though sent to the Persian court by his friend 
Pharnabazus, and charged with a commission of the greatest con- 
sequence to the welfare of Greece, refused to be introduced to 
Artaxerxes, that he might not disgrace his country by complying 
with it. The reader may remember a similar circumstance oc- 
curring more than once in modern diplomacy, in our intercourse 
with the court of China. 



%54< GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Must bear his lot of woe ; afflictions rise 
Darkling, from sea and land alike, if life 
Haply be measured through a lengthen'd course. 
Atos. O thou, that graced with fortune's choicest 
gifts 
Surpassing mortals, whilst thine eye beheld 
Yon sun's ethereal rays, liv'dstlike a God 
Blest 'midst thy Persians ; blest I deem thee 

now 
In death, ere sunk in this abyss of ills ; 
Darius, hear at once our sum of woe, 
Ruin through all her states hath crushed thy 

Persia ; 
Near Athens all our choicest troops have 
fallen. 
Dar. Say, of my sons which led the forces thither ? 
Atos. Impetuous Xerxes, thinning all the land. 
Dar. By sea or land dared he this rash attempt ? 
Atos. By both : a double front the war presented. 
Dar. A host so vast what inarch conducted o'er ? 
Atos. From shore to shore he bridged the Hellespont. 
Dar. What ! could he chain the mighty Bosphorus ? 
Atos. E'en so, some God assisting his design. 
Dar. Some God of power to cloud his better 

sense. 
Atos. The event now shows what mischiefs he 
achieved. 
Susa, through all her streets, mourns her lost 

sons ; 
In Bactra age and grief are only left. 
Dar. Ah, what a train of warlike youth is lost ! 

Atos. Xerxes, astonished, desolate, alone 

Dar. How will this end ? Nay, pause not. Is he 
safe ? 



THE PERSIANS OF ^SCHYLUS. 2o5 

Atos. Fled o'er the bridge, that joined the adverse 

strands, 
And reached this shore in safety. 
Dar. With what a winged course the oracles 

Haste their completion ? With the lightning's 

speed 
Jove on my son hath hurled his threatened ven- 
geance ; 
Yet 1 implored the Gods that it might fall 
In time's late progress : but when rashness 

drives 
Impetuous on, the scourge of Heaven upraised 
Lashes the Fury forward ; hence these ills 
Pour headlong on my friends. Not weighing 

this, 
My son, with all the fiery pride of youth, 
Hath quickened their arrival, whilst he hoped 
To bind the sacred Hellespont, to hold 
The raging Bosphorus, like a slave, in chains *, 
And dared th' advent'rous passage, bridging firm 
With links of solid steel his wondrous way, 
To lead his numerous host ; and, swelled with 

thoughts 
Presumptuous, deemed, vain mortal, that his 

power 



* Authors have been careful to transmit to us an account of 
the presumptuous pride of Xerxes. When the first bridge, which 
he formed over the Hellespont, was broken by the waves, he or- 
dered the sea to be scourged for having dared to disobey his will, 
and threw chains into it, signifying that he would bind it as his 
slave in fetters : but it has not been observed that the peculiar 
aggravation of this folly arose from the impiety of it ; for, as 
the Persians revered water as particularly sacred, Xerxes by his 
arrogance insulted the divinity of the sea. 






r 



256 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Should rise above the Gods, and Neptune's 

might. 
Atos. This from too frequent converse with bad 

men 
Impetuous Xerxes learned : These caught his 

ear 
With thy great deeds, as winning for thy sons 
Vast riches with thy conquering spear, whilst 

he, 
Tim'rous and slothful, never save in sport 
Lifted his lance, nor added to his greatness. 
Dar. Great deeds have they achieved, and me- 
morable 
For ages ! Never hath this wasted state 
Suffered such ruin, since Heaven's awful king 
Gave to one lord Asia's extended plains 
White with innumerous flocks, and to his hands 
Consigned th' imperial sceptre. Her brave hosts 
A Mede first led. The virtues of his son 
Fixed firm the empire, for his temperate soul 
Breathed prudence. Cyrus next, by fortune 

graced, 
Adorned the throne, and blessed his grateful 

friends 
With peace. He to his mighty monarchy 
Joined Lydia, and the Phrygians ; to his power 
Ionia bent reluctant ; but the Gods 
With victory his gentle virtues crowned. 
His son then wore the regal diadem. 
Next, to disgrace his country, and to stain 
The splendid glories of this ancient throne, 
Rose Mardus : him with righteous vengeance 

fired 
Artaphrenes, and his confederate chiefs, 






THE PERSIANS OF AESCHYLUS. 257 

Crushed in his palace : Maraphis assumed 
The sceptre : after him Artaphrenes. 
Me next to this exalted eminence, 
Crowning my great ambition, fortune raised ; 
In many a glorious field my glittering spear 
Flamed in the van of Persia's numerous hosts ; 
But never wrought such ruin to the state. 
Xerxes, my son, in all the pride of youth 
Listens to youthful counsels, my commands 
No more remembered : hence, my hoary friends, 
Not the whole line of Persia's sceptred lords, 
You know it well, so wasted her brave sons. 
Chor. Why this ? To what fair end are these thy 

words 
Directed? Sovereign lord, instruct thy Persians 
How, 'midst this ruin, best to guide their state. 
Dar. No more 'gainst Greece lead your embattled 

hosts ; 
Not though your deep'ning phalanx spreads 

the field 
Out-numb'ring theirs : their very earth fights 

for them. 
Not even those who still in Greece survive 
Shall e'er revisit safe the Persian shore. 
They have their station where Asopus flows 
Wat'ring the plain, whose grateful currents roll 
Diffusing plenty through Bceotia's fields. 
There misery waits to crush them with the load 
Of heaviest ills, in vengeance for their proud 
And impious daring : for where'er they held 
Through Greece their march, they feared not 

to profane 
The statues of the Gods ; their hallowed shrines, 
Fired from their firm foundations, to the ground 

s 



258 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Levelled their temples : Such their frantic deeds, 
Nor less their suff'rings: greater still await 

them ; 
For vengeance hath not wasted all her stores, 
The heap yet swells : for in Platsea's plains 
Beneath the Doric spear the clotted mass 
Of carnage shall arise, that the high mounds, 
Piled o'er the dead, to late posterity 
Shall give this silent record to men's eyes, 
That proud aspiring thoughts but ill beseem 
Weak mortals : for oppression, when it springs, 
Puts forth the blade of vengeance, and its fruit 
Yields a ripe harvest of repentant woe. 
Behold this vengeance, and remember Greece, 
Remember Athens : henceforth let not pride, 
Her present state disdaining, strive to grasp 
Another's, and her treasured happiness 
Shed on the ground : such insolent attempts 
Awake the vengeance of offended Jove *. 
But you, whose age demands more temperate 

thoughts, 
With words of well-placed counsel teach his 

youth 
To curb that pride, which from the Gods calls 

down 
Destruction on his head. And thou, whose age 
The miseries of thy Xerxes sink with sorrow, 
Go to thy house, thence choose the richest robe, 
And meet thy son ; for through the rage of 

grief 

* The intention of the poet in the noble reflection here ascribed 
to Darius, was, it is said, to incline the Athenians to accept the 
Persian monarch's proposal of peace, which Themistocles alone 
still continued to oppose. 



THE PERSIANS OF iESCHYLUS. 259 

His gorgeous vestments from his royal limbs 
Are foully rent. With gentlest courtesy 
Sooth his affliction ; for his duteous ear, 
I know, will listen to thy voice alone. 
Now to the realms of darkness I descend. 
My ancient friends, farewell, and 'midst these 

ills 
Each day in pleasures bathe your drooping 

spirits, 
For treasured riches nought avail the dead. 

Atossa, Chorus. 

Chor. These many present, many future ills 

Denounced on Persia, sink my soul with grief, 

Atos. Unhappy fortune, what a tide of ills 

Bursts o'er me ! Chief this foul disgrace, which 

shows 
My son divested of his rich attire, 
His royal robes all rent, distracts my thoughts. 
But I will go, choose the most gorgeous vest, 
And haste to meet my son. Ne'er in his woes 
Will I forsake whom my soul holds most dear. 

CHORUS. 
Strophe 1. 

Ye powers that rule the skies, 
Memory recals our great, our happy fate, 
Our well-appointed state, 
The scenes of glory opening to our eyes, 

When this vast empire o'er 
The good Darius, with each virtue blest 
That forms a monarch's breast, 



260 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Shielding his subjects with a father's care, 

Invincible in war, 
Extended like a God his awful power. 

Then spread our arms their glory wide, 
Guarding to peace her golden reign ; 

Each towered city saw with pride 
Safe from the toils of war her homeward - 
marching train. 

Antistrophe 1. 

Nor Halys' shallow strand 

He passed, nor from his palace moved his state ; 

He spoke ; his word was Fate : 

What strong-based cities could his might with- 
stand ? 

Not those that lift their heads 

Where to the sea the floods of Strymon pass, 
Leaving the huts of Thrace ; 

Nor those, that far th' extended ocean o'er 

Stand girt with many a tower ; 

Nor where the Hellespont his broad wave 
spreads ; 
Nor the firm bastions' rampir'd might, 

Whose foot the deep Propontis laves ; 

Nor those, that glorying in their height 

Frown o'er the Pontic sea, and shade his 
darkened waves. 

Strophe 2. 

Each sea-girt isle around 
Bowed to this monarch : humbled Lesbos 
bowed ; 



THE PERSIANS OF AESCHYLUS. 261 

Paros, of its marble proud ; 

Naxos with vines, with olives Samos crowned ; 

Him Myconus adored ; 
Chios, the seat of beauty ; Andros steep, 
That stretches o'er the deep 
To meet the wat'ry Tenos ; him each bay 
Bound by th' Icarian sea, 

Him Melos, Gnidus, Rhodes confessed their 
lord : 

O'er Cyprus stretched his sceptred hand : 
Paphos and Solos owned his power, 

And Salamis, whose hostile strand, 
The cause of all our woe, is red with Persian gore. 

Antistrophe 2, 

E'en the proud towns, that reared 
Sublime along th' Ionian coast their towers, 
Where wealth her treasures pours, 
Peopled from Greece, his prudent reign revered. 

With such unconquered might 
His hardy warriors shook th' embattled fields, 
Heroes that Persia yields, 
And those from distant realms that took their 

way, 
And wedged in close array 
Beneath his glitt'ring banners claimed the fight. 
But now these glories are no more ; 
Farewell the big war's plumed pride : 
The Gods have crushed this trophied 
power, 
Sunk are our vanquished arms beneath th' in- 
dignant tide. 

Enter Xerxes. 



262 greek dramatic poets. 

Xerxes, Chorus. 

Xerx. Ah me, how sudden have the storms of 
Fate, 
Beyond all thought, all apprehension, burst 
On my devoted head ! O Fortune, Fortune ! 
With what relentless fury hath thy hand, 
Hurled desolation on the Persian race ! 
Woe insupportable ! The tort'ring thought 
Of our lost youth comes rushing on my heart, 
And sinks me to the ground. O Jove, that I 
Had died with those brave men that died in 
fight! 

Ckor. Proud Asia sinking on her knee, O king, 
Humbled, with griefs oppressed, bends to the 
earth. 

Xerx. And I, O wretched fortune, I was born 
To crush, to desolate my ruined country. 

Chor. I have no voice, no swelling harmony, 
No descant save these notes of woe, 
Harsh, and responsive to the sullen sigh, 
Rude strains, that unmelodious flow, 
To welcome thy return. 

Xerx. Then bid them flow, bid the wild measures 
flow, 
Hollow, unmusical, the notes of grief; 
They suit my fortune, and dejected state. 

Chor. Yes, at thy royal bidding shall the strain 
Pour the deep sorrows of my soul ; 
The suff 'rings of my bleeding country plain, 
And bid the mournful measures roll. 
Again the voice of wild despair 
With thrilling shrieks shall pierce the air ; 



THE PERSIANS OF JESCHYLUS. 

For high the God of War his flaming crest 
Raised, with the fleet of Greece surrounded, 
The haughty arms of Greece with conquest 

blest, 
And Persia's wither'd force confounded, 
Daslrd on the dreary beach her heroes slain, 
Or whelnrd them in the darken'd main. 

Chor. O woe, woe, woe ! Unutterable woe 
The Demons of Revenge have spread ; 
And Ate from her drear abode below 
Rises to view the horrid deed. 

Xerx. Dismay, and rout, and ruin, ills that wait 
On man's afflicted fortune, sink us down. 

Chor. Dismay, and rout, and ruin on us wait, 
And all the vengeful storms of Fate : 
111 flows on ill, on sorrow sorrows rise ; 
Misfortune leads her baleful train ; 
Before the Ionian squadrons Persia flies, 
Or sinks ingulfed beneath the main : 
Fall'n, fall'n is her imperial power, 
And, conquest on her banners waits no more, 

Xerx. At such a fall, such troops of heroes lost, 
How can my soul but sink in deep despair ! 

Chor. Is all thy glory lost, are all thy powers 
In ruin crushed ? 

Xerx. No satrap guards me now. 

Chor. Where are thy valiant friends? Thy chief- 
tains where ? 

Xerx. Weep, weep their loss, and lead me to my 
house ; 
Answer my grief with grief, an ill return 
Of ills for ills. Yet once more raise that strain 
Lamenting my misfortunes ; beat thy breast, 



264 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Strike, heave the groan ; awake the Mysian 

strain 
To notes of loudest woe ; rend thy rich robes, 
Pluck up thy beard, tear off thy hoary locks, 
And bathe thine eyes in tears : thus through 

the streets 
Solemn and slow with sorrow lead my steps ; 
Lead to my house, and wail the fate of Persia. 
Chor. Yes, at thy bidding shall the dirge again 
Pour the deep sorrows of my soul; 
The sufF 'rings of my bleeding country plain, 
And bid the Mysian measures roll. 
Again the voice of wild despair 
With thrilling shrieks shall pierce the air ; 
For high the God of War his flaming crest 
Raised, with the fleet of Greece surrounded, 
The haughty arms of Greece with conquest 

blest, 
And Persia's withered force confounded, 
Dashed on the dreary beach her heroes slain, 
Or whelmed them in the darkened main. 



END OF THE PERSIANS OF JESCHYLUS. 



THE 



SUPPLIANTS. 



PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. 

DANAUS. 

PELASGUS, King of Sicyon. 

HERALD. 

CHORUS, the DAUGHTERS OF DANAUS. 



I 



THE SUPPLIANTS OF JESCHYLUS. 267 



INTRODUCTION. 

Danaus and iEgyptus, sons of Belus, were fourth 
in descent from Io. The first had fifty daughters, 
the latter as many sons. iEgyptus deemed it his in- 
terest to unite their families and kingdoms still 
more closely, by the marriage of his sons with the 
daughters of his brother. Danaus and his children 
thought this connection so unlawful and impious 
that they sailed from Egypt and sought refuge in 
Greece. Mr. Potter well observes, that " the pro- 
vident wisdom of their father Danaus, the calm but 
firm dignity of Pelasgus, the inviolable attachment 
to the laws of hospitality, the solemn sense of re- 
ligion, and the chasteness of sentiment through the 
whole, must please every mind that is capable of 
being touched with the gracious simplicity of ancient 
manners." The religious peace that reigns through- 
out it, contrasts too, very agreeably, with the din of 
arms which pervaded the last tragedy. 

The scene is near the shore, in an open grove, 
beside the altar and images of the gods presiding 
over the sacred games, with a view of the sea and 
the ships of iEgyptus on one side, and of the towers 
of Argos on the other. 

The point at which the action commences, is when 
the Suppliants have just landed on the coast of 
Greece, which, after duly invoking Jupiter, the god 
of Suppliants, to protect them, they thus proceed to 
address : 



268 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Chor. Ye royal towers, thou earth, and ye fair 
streams 
Of orient crystal, ye immortal gods 
In the high heavens enthroned, ye awful powers 
That deep beneath hold your tremendous seats, 
Jove the preserver, guardian of the roof 
Of pious men, receive your suppliants, 
Breathe o'er these realms your gracious in- 
fluence, 
And form them to receive this female train ! 
But for those men, that proud injurious band 
Sprung from iEgyptus, ere they fix their foot 
On this moist shore, drive them into the deep, 
With all their flying streamers and quick oars, 
There let them meet the whirlwind's boist'rous 

rage, 
Thund'rings, and lightnings, and the furious 

blasts 
That harrow up the wild tempestuous waves, 
And perish in the storm, ere they ascend 
Our kindred bed, and seize against our will 
What nature and the laws of blood deny. 
Ye rising hills that crown this shore, 
Where Apis* reign'd in years of yore, 
Propitious hear me, nor disdain 
To let your echoes learn this strain : 
Barbaric though my voice and rude, 
Well may its notes be understood ; 

* Apis, a son of Apollo, the most ancient King of Peloponne- 
sus, from which he is said to have expelled all venomous reptiles. 
Hence Nestor, in the 270th line of the 1st Iliad, says he came 
from the Apian land afar, to aid the Lapithae against the Cen- 
taurs ; Pylos, now Navarin, was situate on the west coast of Pe- 
loponnesus. 



THE SUPPLIANTS OF AESCHYLUS. 269 

Barbaric though this purfled stole, 
Flounc'd around with linen roll : 
This blushing veil though Sidon gave, 
Ye hills of Apis hear, and save ! 

The dashing oar, the swelling sail, 
That caught the favourable gale, 
Safe from the storms, let none complain, 
Wafted our frail bark o'er the main. 
All-seeing sovereign sire, defend, 
And guide us to a prosp'rous end ; 
Save us, O save the seed divine 
Of our great mother's sacred line ; 
From man's rude touch O set us free, 
And help insnared chastity ! 

Thou, virgin daughter of high Jove, 
A virgin's vows hear, and approve ; 
Holding thy sober, awful state, 
Protect us from the touch we hate ; 
From bold incontinence secure, 
Pure thyself, preserve us pure ; 
Save us, O save the seed divine 
Of our great mother's sacred line ; 
From man's rude touch O set us free, 
And help insnared chastity ! 

Danaus, Chorus. 

Dan. Daughters, this hour demands your utmost 
prudence ; 
Your father's care, your old and faithful pilot, 
Hath held your helm safe o'er the dangerous 

deep ; 
Behoves you, now at land, with provident heed 
To form your counsels, and attentive mark 
My words. Yon cloud of dust, though tongue- 
less, speaks 



r 



270 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

An army nigh ; I hear their wheels of brass 
Loud rattling on their axles ; now I view 
Chariots and horse distinct, and shields, and 

spears 
Far gleaming o'er the plain ; the lords per- 
chance 
That rule these realms, inform'd of our arrival, 
Advance ; but bring they to us minds of peace, 
Guiltless of violence, or with ruthless rage 
Rush on this train, best sit together, virgins, 
Around this altar sacred to the Gods 
Presiding o'er the games * : a surer refuge 
Than tower or shield war -proof, an altar gives. 
Go then with speed, and reverent in your 

hands 
Hold forth these supplicating branches, crown'd 
With snowy wreaths, ensigns of awful Jove. 
With modest, grave, and decent speech receive 
These strangers, as beseems the wretched state 
Of unknown suppliants ; declare at once 
Distinct and brief the motives of your flight. 
Ckor. Wise are thy counsels, and with reverent 
heed 
Shall be remember'd, father ; and may Jove, 
The author of our race, look gracious on us. 

Enter Pelasgus. 

Pelasgus, Danaus, Chorus. 

Pel. What female train address we here, and 
whence, 
Gorgeously vested in barbaric stoles 
That float in many a fold ? Our Argos sees not 

* These gods were Jupiter as presiding over the Olympic 
games, Neptune over the Isthmian, and Apoilo as institutor of the 
Pythian. 




5 ^ 

ill 



^ 






THE SUPPLIANTS OF /ESCHYLUS. 271 



Her daughters thus array'd, nor Greece through 

all 
Its states. That thus without some previous 

herald, 
The public hospitality not ask'd, 
Without safe conduct, you have boldly ven- 
tured 
To land upon our coasts, it is most strange. 
Only these boughs, as suppliants are wont, 
You lay before these Gods that o'er the games 
Preside : hence Greece forms only one con- 
jecture, 
Of all besides uncertain what to think, 
Till your distinct relation clears our doubts. 
Chor. How am I to address thee, as a man 

Of private station, or with hallow'd charge 
Presiding here, or chieftain of the state ? 
Pel. Nay, answer me, and speak with confidence : 
Pelasgus bids you, sovereign of this land : 
My sire Paleechthon, of high ancestry 
Original with th' earth : from me, their king, 
The people take their name, and boast them- 
selves 

Pelasgians. O'er a wide extent of land, 
Through which the Algus flows, and Strymon 

west, 
From the Perrhsebians o'er the sacred heights 
Of Pindus, to Pceonia, and beyond 
The mountains of Dodona, spacious realms, 
My empire stretches, bounded by the sea. 
Now speak, and tell w T ith speed your purpose 

here ; 
But know we brook not the long pomp of words. 
I Chor. Brief will I be, and plain. Of Argive race 



272 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 






We boast ourselves, and draw our vaunted 

lineage 
From her, the lowing mother *, in her son -f 
Supremely blest. All this my words shall prove. 
Pel. Unplausible your tale. Can it be, strangers, 
That you're of Argive race ? Liker, I ween, 
To Libyan damsels, in no wise resembling 
Our daughters, such perchance the Nile might 

rear, 
Such in the glowing tint the artist's hand 
Might mark the Colchian dame ; and such, I 

hear, 
The wan'dring Indians, mounted on their 

camels, 
Along the tented plains out- stretching wide 
To ^Ethiopia's cities ; such the troops 
Of warlike Amazons ; and were your hands 
Arm'd with the polish'd bow, I might conjecture 
You were of these ; therefore I thirst to know 
More fully, how you are of Argive race. 
Chor. Fame speaks of Io, in this Argive land, 
Relating that the Thunderer, of her charms 
Enamour'd, with a mortal mix'd the god. 
Pel. What angry measures form'd his royal consort ? 
Chor. The Argive queen transformed her to a 
heifer ; 

An herdsman she assigned starr'd round with 

eyes. 

Pel. What herdsman this, and how starr'd round 

with eyes ? 

Chor. The earth-born Argus : but him Hermes 
slew. 

* 16. f Epaphus. 



THE SUPPLIANTS OF AESCHYLUS. 27«5 

Pel. What new device to vex the wretched heifer ? 
Chor. A winged pest, arm'd with a horrid sting : 
Those on the banks of Nile call it the brize. 
Pel. And drove her in long wand'rings from this 

land ? 
Cuor. Thy words, according well, speak this for me. 
Pel. Reach'd she Canobus, and the walls of Mem- 
phis I 
Chor. There Jove with gentle hand sooth'd her to 
rest ; 
There planted his illustrious progeny. 
Pel. Who from this heifer boasts his race divine ? 
Chor. Hence Epaphus received his name ; from him 

Libya, whose fair domains extended wide. 
Pel. What other branch sprang from this mighty 

root? 
Chor. Belus, the father of two sons ; my sire, 

Behold, is one. 
Pel. Declare the sage's name. 

Chor. Danaus: his brother, whom by name they 
call 
iEgyptus, is the sire of fifty sons. 
Thus have I shewn thee our high ancestry ; 
Protect us then, support an Argive train. 
Pel. You seem indeed to draw your origin 

Of old from hence : but say, how have you 

dared 
To leave your father's house ? What chance 
constrain'd you ? 
Chor. King of Pelasgia, various are the ills 

Of mortal man ; and never may'st thou see 
Misfortune mounting on the self-same wing. 
Who would have thought we should have 
wing'd our flight 

T 



274 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Thus unexpected to the coast of Argos 
Allied of old, amazement in our van, 
And strong abhorrence of the nuptial bed ! 

Pel. In what would you engage my honour to you ? 

Chor. Not to enthral us to iEgyptus' sons, 
Should they demand us. 

Pel. Arduous is the task 

Thou wouldst enjoin me, to provoke new wars. 

Chor. O'er him that succours, Justice holds her 
shield. 

Pel. Struck with religious awe I thus behold 
These branches shade this consecrated seat. 

Chor. Dread then the wrath of Jove, who guards 
the suppliant. 
Son of Palaechthon, hear me ; with a heart 
Prompt to relieve, king of Pelasgia, hear. 
Behold me suppliant, an exile, wand'ring, 
Like the poor lamb, that on the craggy steep 
Raises her mournful voice, secure of help, 
And warns her faithful keeper of her danger. 

Pel. To me in private make not your request, 
Ere consultation with the people held 
Warrant the sanction of the public faith. 

Chor. Thou art the state ; the public thou ; thy 
voice, 
Superior to control, confirms the sanction 
This altar gives ; thy sole authority, 
High-sceptred monarch of a sovereign throne. 
Is here obeyed: religion's voice pleads for us ; 
Revere it, nor profane these hallo w'd seats. 

Pel. That profanation to mine enemies. 
To grant you my protection cannot be 
But with much danger ; to reject your prayers, 
Humanity forbids : perplex'd I fear 



THE SUPPLIANTS OF AESCHYLUS. 21 r> 

To act, or not to act, and fix my choice. 
Chor. On heaven's high throne he sits whose 
watchful eye 
Regards the afflicted, when unfeeling pride 
Denies that justice which the law asks for them. 
Reverence his power ; for when the sufferer 

groans 
With pangs unpitied, the fix'd wrath of Jove, 
Protector of the suppliant, burns severe. 
Pel. If by your country's laws iEgyptus' sons, 
As next of blood, assert a right in you, 
Who should oppose them ? It behoves thee then 
By your own laws to prove such claim unjust. 
Chor. Ah never may I be perforce a thrall 

To man ! By heaven-directed flight I break 
The wayward plan of these detested nuptials. 
Arm justice on thy side, and with her aid 
Judge with that sanctity the Gods demand. 
Pel. No easy province : make not me your judge. 
Great though my power, it is not mine to act, 
I told thee so, without my people's voice 
Assenting ; lest, if ill arise, they say 
" Rash-judging king ! thou hast undone thy 
country." 
Chor. Deliberate then with prudent care : 
To thy counsels take with thee 
Heaven-commercing piety, 
And be stedfast justice near. 

Hark ! me thinks I hear them say, 
Do not, mighty king, betray 
Wretched exiles wand'ring far. 

See me not with ruffian hand, 
Outraged at this shrine, profaned, 
Learn what boist'rous man may dare. 

12 



276 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS, 

See me not, with ruffled vest 
Rent unseemly from my breast, 
Loose my tresses waving round, 

Bridled with this golden brede, 
Led, like a reluctant steed, 
From the Gods that guard this ground. 
See each hallowed image here, 
And the awful powers revere : 
At thy feet thy suppliant laid, 
Mighty monarch hear and aid ! 
And know, to thee, thy house, thy rising race 
Impartial justice shall repay the deed ; 
With glory's radiant crown thy virtues grace, 
And righteous Jove shall sanctify the meed. 
Pel. Well ; I have paused and pondered ; but each 
thought 
Tells me the fluctuating tide perforce 
Will drive me on a war with these, or those : 
And, like a ship with all its anchors out, 
I must abide the storm : nor will this end 
Without calamity, and loss, and woe. 
Chor. Hear the last words of desperate modesty. 
Seest thou these braided zones that bind our 
robes ? 
Pel. What would thy words intend? Explain thyself. 
Chor. If honour shall not guard this female train — 
Pel. How can these binding zones secure your 

safety ? 
Chor. Hanging new trophies on these images. 
Pel. Mysterious are thy words ; speak plainly to 

me. 
Chor. To tell thee plainly then, I mean ourselves. 
Pel. I hear the language of an anguished heart. 
Chor. Be sure of that ; I speak our firm resolves. 






THE SUPPLIANTS OF AESCHYLUS. 277 



Pel. On every side inevitable ills 

Surround me, like a flood whose dang'rous 

surge 
Drives me into a vast and gulfy sea, 
Where no kind harbour shelters from the storm. 
Should I not yield you refuge, thou hast named 
A deed of horror not to be surpassed : 
If with iEgyptus' sons, whose veins are rich 
With kindred blood, before our walls I try 
The chance of war, what else, but bitter loss 
Can be th' event, when in a woman's cause 
Men shed their warm blood on th' embattled 

plain ? 
Yet strong constraint compels me to revere 
The wrath of Jove, whose hospitable power 
Protects the suppliant, awfully severe. 
And thou, age-honoured father of these virgins, 
Take in thy hands these boughs, place them 

with speed 
On other altars of our country Gods ; 
That all the citizens may see the signs 
Of your arrival ; but of me be sure 
Speak not a word : for this free people love 
To tax authority with blame. 
Chor. For him 

Thou hast ordered well ; but what becomes of 
me? 
Pel. Seest thou that unfenced grove ? Take shelter 

there. 
Chor. How should th' unconsecrated grove protect 

me ? 
Pel. Let them have wings, we leave you not their 

prey. 
Chor. Be all thy words, be all thy actions happy ! 



278 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Pel. Your father will not long be absent from you. 
Meanwhile will I persuade the assembled 

people, 
If haply I may move them, to receive you 
With gen'rous pity : him will I instruct 
How best t' address his speech. Await th' 

event, 
And supplicate the Gods whose guardian power 
Is worshipped here to grant your hearts' warm 

wish. 
This done, I will return ; and may persuasion 
Hang on his tongue, and wait upon my steps. 
Chor. To whom, for justice when I raise the strain, 
To whom, save Jove, should I complain ? 
Great, awful author of our ancient line, 

Creative parent, independent lord, 
Disposer of the world, righteous, benign, 

Sovereign, above the highest high adored ; 
Whene'er he deigns to grace some favoured 

head, 
Easy alike to him the will, the word, the deed. 

Danaus, Chorus. 

Dan. Be of good courage, daughters ; a decree, 
Such as you wish, this gen'rous state has passed. 

Chor. Dear to my soul, with grateful tidings fraught, 
Hail, reverend parent! But inform us how 
Passed the decree ; what numbers favoured us ? 

Dan. Not one discordant voice jarred in their coun- 
cils. 
The fire of youth glowed in these aged veins, 
When the whole people their uplifted hands 
Waved in the air, to witness their assent 
That we might be permitted here to dwell 



THE SUPPLIANTS OF /ESCHYLUS. 279 

Free, irreclaimable, inviolate : 
That none presume, native or stranger, hence 
To lead us ; and should force be used, whoe'er 
Assists not, him the public sentence drives, 
With infamy, an exile from his country. 
This the Pelasgian king advised, to us 
Benevolent, declaring the fierce wrath 
Of Jove, protector of the suppliant, 
Could not permit this firm and prosp'rous state 
To flourish ; but such double insult, offered 
To every law of hospitality 
Sacred and civil, w r ould with twofold vengeance 
Draw ruin on it. When the Argives heard 
These arguments of winning eloquence, 
Impatient of the usual forms, they gave 
With hands uplifted their concordant suffrage 
Friendly to us : thus Jove decreed th' event. 
Chor. Come then, my sisters, for these pious Ar- 
gives 
Breathe we some pious prayer, whose solemn 

strain 
May reach the ear of Jove. And thou, Su- 
preme, 
God of the stranger, hear a stranger's voice 
Sincere, unblamed; and ratify our vows ! 
Stro. Ye progeny of Jove, whose awful power 
In yon ethereal plain 
Fixes the glories of your reign, 
Bend from your radiant seats your ear, 
Attentive to a virgin's prayer, 
And on this gen'rous race your choicest bless- 
ings shower. 
Never may war, whose wanton rage 
The thund'ring falchion joys to wield, 



280 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Joys, when embattled hosts engage, 

To mow with ruthless arm the field ; 
Never with rude discordant roar 
Affright the echoes of this shore ; 
Never with hostile hand 

Wave round these glitt'ring towers the blazing 
brand. 
Soft-eyed humanity dwells here, 
That melting to the suppliant's tear 

Asserts our hopeless cause ; 
And spotless piety, whose breast 
Humbly reveres Jove's high behest, 

And hospitable laws. 
Your sacred spirit fires the free 
To form the gen'rous, bold decree, 

Man's rude force to disdain ; 
To cast on heaven's dread lord their eye, 
The terrors of his vengeance fly, 
Nor scorn our female train : 
He o'er the impious roof his thunder rolls, 
And awful in his wrath appals the guilty souls. 
Asttis. Our kindred train, suppliants of holy 
Jove, 
Pelasgia's sons revere, 
And make our wrongs their gen'rous care. 
For this at every hallowed shrine 
Propitious be each power divine ; 
For this beneath this solemn-shaded grove 
Our raptured invocations rise, 

And Heaven shall hear the pious strains. 
Ah ! never may malignant skies 

Blast the fresh glories of your plains : 
Nor pestilence with pois'nous breath, 
AVaste your thin towns with livid death : 



' 



THE SUPPLIANTS OF /ESCIIYLUS. 281 

Nor war's stern power deface 
The blooming flowers that youth's fair season 
grace. 
Still may your chiefs, a reverend band, 
Around the hallowed altars stand ; 

And ardent for the state 
Pour the warm vow to Heaven's high Lord, 
The great, the just ; whose will adored 

With hoar law tempers fate *. 
Still rise new chiefs, a lengthened line, 
(Kind on their birth, Diana, shine !) 

The brave, the wise, the good : 
But never discord's dread alarms 
Your madd'ning cities rouse to arms, 
And stain your streets with blood : 
Nor pale disease her sickly dews display, 
Touched by thy golden beams, ambrosial fount 
of day. 
Epod. Fav'ring seasons grace the year, 

Crown with rich fruits your cultured plains ; 

The joyful flock, the sportive steer, 
Bound wanton o'er your wide domains. 
Each immortal show'ring treasures, 
Wake the soft melodious measures ; 
Let the chastely-warbled lay 
The muses' rapture-breathing shell obey. 
Firm may the honours of your laws remain, 
And prudence in your counsels reign : 
Just to yourselves and to the stranger kind, 
May peace to sleep consign the bloodless 
sword ; 

* Hoar law is an expression significant of the purity of 
justice, to which the cana fides of the Latins corresponds. 



282 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Each honour to your country's Gods assigned; 
Each laurelled shrine with hallowed rites 
adored ; 

The parent's hoary head with reverence crown- 
ed; 

View this, ye righteous Gods, and stretch pro- 
tection round ! 

Danaus, Chorus. 

Dan. I like this well ; wise are these votive strains. 
But though your father brings unwelcome 

tidings, 
New, and unlook'd for, fear not you th' event. 
From yon high mound, where first you sup- 
pliant stood, 
I saw a ship, I mark'd its waving streamer, 
Its swelling sails, and all its gallant trim : 
Its prow with heedful eye observes its way, 
Obedient to the helm that guides behind ; 
Unfriendly sight ! the sailors too I mark'd, 
Conspicuous in white robes their sable limbs, 
Th' attendant vessels, proudly riding, sweep 
The w r atery way ; she, foremost, near the land 
Now furls her sails, and all the shouting crew 
Bend to the eager oar. Behoves you now 
Sedate and sage attention, nor neglect 
These Gods. I haste to bring their gen'rous 

aid, 
The patrons, the protectors of your cause. 
Haply some herald may be sent, w T ith charge 
To claim you as their prize : it shall not be : 
Argos, I know, will arm in your defence. 
Chor. Fatally fierce they are, and on their pride 
Destruction waits, and never-sated war, 



THE SUPPLIANTS OF .ESCIIYLUS. 283 

These sons of old Egyptus, not to thee 
Unknown : E'en now their firm-compacted ships 
Black o'er the angry deep insulting ride, 
Eager to land their sable-tinctured hosts. 
Dan. And they shall find a host, whose toil-strung 
arms 
Relax not in the sun's meridian heat. 
Chor. Forsake me not, ah, leave me not alone, 
I pray thee, father ; a forsaken woman 
Is very weak : their wily, faithless minds. 
Like obscene birds, spare not the hallow'd 
altar. 
Dan. Now fair befal our cause, if their mad rage, 

Insulting thee, my child, insults the Gods. 
Chor. Neither these tridents, nor this solemn scene 
Will awe them to refrain their impious hands. 
They scorn the Gods, and with unhallowed force 
Rush madly on, like savage, rav'ning dogs. 
Stro. Oh might I sit sublime in air, 

Where wat'ry clouds the freezing snows pre- 
pare ! 
Or on a rock w T hose threat'ning brow, 
Th' aerial vulture's unreach'd seat, 
In solitary state 
Frowns ruinous o'er th' affrighted waste below : 
Roll'd headlong down its rugged side, 

A mangled carcass let me lie, 
Ere dragg'd a pale, unwilling bride, 
Victim to sad necessity ; 
And my indignant heart 

Feel the keen wounds of sorrow's tort'ring dart. 
Antis. Throw me, ere that detested day, 

To prowling dogs and rav'nous birds a prey. 



284 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

No form of death affrights me now : 
O thou, assigned the wretch's friend, 
To bid his miseries end, 

And in oblivion's balm to steep his woe ; 
Come, gentle death, ere that sad hour 
Which drags me to the nuptial bed ; 
And let me find in thy soft power 
A refuge from the force I dread ; 

O spread thy sable cloud, 

And in its unpierced gloom our sorrows shroud! 
Epod. Higher let your voices rise, 

And swell the choral descant to the skies, 

Notes of such a lofty vein 

That Gods may listen to the solemn strain ! 

Eternal Sire, from Heaven's high throne, 
If thy indignant eye-balls glow 
With vengeance at foul deeds below, 

Look down, thou Sovereign of the World, look 
down : 
iEgyptus' sons, a ruffian race, 
Our flying footsteps chase ; 
And on our trembling, weeping band, 
Advance to lay their vengeful hand : 

Extend thy golden scales, 

For without thee what mortal worth avails ? 
By land, by sea, 
They seek their prey ; 

Oh, ere they seize it, may the ruffians die ! 

Again I raise the mournful cry. 

They come, they come, the haughty foes : 
These are but preludes to my woes, 
To yon strong rampires bend your flight ; 
By sea, by land they rush severe, 



THE SUPPLIANTS OF JESCIIYLUS. 285 

And with their stern and threat'ning air, 
The softness of our sex affright. 
Look down, thou Sovereign of the World, and 
save ! 

Enter the Egyptian herald. 

Herald, Chorus. 

Her. Hence to the ship, hence with your utmost 

speed. 
Chor. No, never, never ; slay, stab me to death, 
Rend from these mangled limbs my bleeding 
head. 
Her. Hence, I command you, to the rolling vessel 
Instantly hence : if one presume to linger, 
I pay no reverence to your crisped locks, 
This hand perforce shall drag her by her 
tresses. 
Chor. Ye rulers of the city, Force o'erpow'rs me, 
Her. You shall see many rulers, doubt not, soon, 

^Egyptus' sons ; no anarchy is here. 
Chor. Unlook'd for ruin comes, O king, upon us. 
Her. I must use force, I see, and pluck you hence 
Dragg'd by the locks, since my words move 
you not. 

Pelasgus, Herald, Chorus. 

Pel. Whence these outrageous deeds ? How dares 
thy pride 
Offer this insult to the land, where dwell 
Pelasgian men? Or didst thou deem that 

women 
Alone inhabit here ? Thy savage acts, 
Barbarian, touch the dignity of Greece. 



286- GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Learn thy mistake then, and thine high offence. 
Her. A stranger, here I found whom I had lost ; 
These lead I hence ; and who shall take them 
from me ? 
Pel. Dare but to touch them, dearly shalt thou rue 

it. 
Her. Is this your hospitality to strangers ? 
Pel. I owe the ruffian none, that robs the Gods. 
Her. Then let me speak, and plainly ; it becomes 
A herald's office to speak all things plain, 
Many shall shed their dear blood in the dust, 
Many lie low on earth, and bite the ground, 
Ere you shall see this dreadful quarrel end. 
Pel, Hear then what honour prompts, what justice 
dictates, 
And bear it to the partners of thy voyage. 
If these approve, if their free will incline 

them, 
Lead them, if gentle words win their assent. 
This firm decree the suffrage of the state 
Has render'd sacred, not by force to yield 
A train of females ; this resolve, be sure 
Is strongly fixed, and never can be shaken. 
Though not engraved on tablets, nor enrolled 
In seal-stamped volumes, my free voice de- 
clares it 
In words of plainest import. Take thy answer ; 
Hence from my sight, with thy best speed be 
gone. 
Hek. Know then a rising war awaits thy choice ; 

Valour and conquest crown the helms of men. 
Pel. You shall be met by men, whose lively blood 
Dull draughts of barley wine have never 
clogged. 



THE SUPPLIANTS OF AESCHYLUS. 287 

Now virgins, with your train of faithful 
friends, 
Dismiss your fears ; enter this town, whose 

walls 
Strong-built, and crowned with many a bul- 
wark, lift 
Their towered heads impregnable : within 
This state has many structures ; nor is mine 
A small or lonely dwelling ; such a house, 
Where cheerful numbers live in wealth and 

splendour, 
May haply please you : if a private mansion, 
Devoted to your use, be more your wish, 
The best of these, the most approved, is 

yours. 
Make your free choice : I will protect yon all. 
Chor. For these thy bounties may the bounteous 
Gods 
Shower blessings on thy head, thou generous 

king 
Of brave Pelasgia ! But benevolent 
Send us our father Danaus, on whose firm 
And provident counsels we rely. His care, 
And sage advice is needful, where to choose 
Our dwelling, our secure retreat. The tongue 
Of slander is too prompt with wanton malice 
To wound the stranger : act we then with cau- 
tion. 
Pel. With honour, lovely virgins, with the voice 
Of fair-applauding fame amidst our city 
Shall your appointment be, where'er your father 
1 Assigns to each her mansion and attendants. 

j Enter Danaus. 



288 greek dramatic poets. 

Danaus, Chorus. 

Dan. Daughters, it well becomes you to these Ar- 
gives, 
As to th' immortal Gods, to offer vows, 
Libation, sacrifice, and every rite 
Religion knows ; so liberal their protection, 
So readily they lent their friendly ears, 
And favoured all my deeds against these youths, 
These kindred youths, whose headlong pride 

thus haunts you. 
Behold these spears around, to me assigned 
An honourable guard, that no rude hand 
With barbarous rage may lift the secret sword, 
And with my blood pollute the pious land. 

Chor. O may the powers of Heaven in all besides 
Be gracious to us ; in our virgin honour 
Have confidence : be their high wills un- 
changed, 
I shall not deviate from my mind's fixed plan. 

No more to Nile's deep floods belong 
The warbled voice, the raptured song ; 

Our praise Pelasgia's towns demand ; 
And each fresh fount that loves to lead 
His humid train through grove, through 
mead, 

And rolls luxuriance through the land. 
Virgin Diana, bend thine eye, 

And piteous of a virgin's woes, 
O save ensnared chastity, 

From the rude touch of hated foes : 
Nor see thy struggling votaries led 
Where Venus decks the bed ! 



THE SUPPLIANTS OF £ISCHYLUS. 289 

Nor, Queen of Love, shall our mellifluous lays 
Be silent in thy praise : 
For thou, next Heaven's imperial queen, 
In highest grace with Jove art seen, 

And mighty deeds declare thy power ; 
The passions hear thy soft control ; 
Thy sweet voice melts the willing soul, 

Enchanted with thy honied lore. 
Round thee, where'er thou lead'st the way, 

Joyful the frolic Cupids rove : 
And as their antic sports they play, 

Whisper the harmony of love. 
But what have I with love or joy ? 
My peace wild fears annoy, 
The miseries of flight, pursuit's alarms, 
And slaughter-threatening arms : 
Why else the quick, the fav'ring gales 
Waft o'er the waves their flying sails ? 
Semich. This is the fixed decree of fate ; 

And thus high Heaven's unbounded Lord, 
Pronounced th' irrevocable word, 
And doom'd us to the nuptial state. 
Chor. Ah, never may his sovereign will 

Me to iEgyptus' sons unite ! 
Semich. This is to grasp at shadows still, 

And sooth thy soul with vain delight. 
Chor. Know'st thou his will ? Or has thine eye 

Looked through futurity ? 
Semich. His mind I dare not scan, immense, pro- 
found : 
And thou thy wishes bound ; 
'Gainst Heaven's high will exclaim no more, 
But in mute meekness learn t' adore. 



290 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 

Chor. Almighty Sire, whose healing hand 
Sooth'd thy loved Io's soul to rest, 
With comfort cheer this sorrowing hreast, 
And save us from this hostile band ! 
For me through fortune's cloud hope beams 
her ray, 
And from that cloud grows brightening like 
the sun ; 
So right succeeding right shall force its way, 
And the good Gods complete what Greece 
begun. 



END OF THE SUPPLIAKTS. 



GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 291 



We have thus gone through the Seven Tragedies 
that remain to us of jEschylus, in the manner that 
was proposed. Much has been curtailed from all, 
and much that in the original is interesting and ex- 
quisitely beautiful has been omitted, but it is hoped 
that the volume has been rendered as complete, and 
as suitable to the taste of English readers, as its na- 
ture and limits would permit. It may be safely af- 
firmed, that those who read it with any degree of 
attention and pleasure, will have a juster notion of 
the nature and scope of Greek Tragedy, and of the 
genius of its great founder, than most of those who 
at much expense of time and pains toil through one 
of these plays even in the language of iEschylus 
himself, but presently abandon their task before 
they have acquired any relish whatever for their 
author, and just when the study might, if properly 
pursued, become both useful and very delightful to 
them. 

Should the present attempt be favourably re- 
ceived, it is intended to devote a second volume, on 
a similar plan, to Sophocles, and a concluding one 
to Euripides. The Introductions to these volumes 
will afford opportunity for some inquiry into the 
history and design of ancient poetry in general, and 
into the source of that delight which we confessedly 
receive from Tragedy, as well as some other col- 
lateral subjects, not altogether unworthy of parti- 
cular investigation. 



G. Wooclfall, Printer, Angel Court, Skinner Street, London, 



INTRODUCTIONS to the STUDY of the 

GREEK CLASSIC POETS, for the Use of Young Persons at 
School or College. By HENRY NELSON COLERIDGE. 
Post 8vo. 6s. 6d. 

Contents of Part I.— 1. General Introduction. — 2. Homeric 
Questions. — 3. Life of Homer. — 4. Iliad. — 5. Odyssey. — 6. Mar- 
gites. — 7. Batrachomyomachia. — 8. Hymns. — 9. Hesiod. 

" Mr. Coleridge has done himself infinite credit by this little 
volume, which displays striking proofs of judgment, learning, and 
good taste. It is designed for the use of young persons at school 
or college ; though, in truth, it may be used with advantage by- 
persons of all ages. The present volume is only the first of a 
series intended to be put forth from time to time." — Sun. 

" We sincerely hope that Mr. Coleridge will favour us with a 
continuation of this work, which he promises." — Gents. Mag. 

" The Author of this elegant volume has collected a vast mass 
of valuable information. To the higher classes of the public 
schools, and young men of Universities, this volume will be es- 
pecially valuable ; as it will afford an agreeable relief of light 
reading to more grave studies, at once instructive and entertain- 
ing." — Wesleyan Methodist Mag. Dec. 1830. 



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